He nodded. She was making excuses for him.
“Well, she’ll be staying for a while anyway.” He stood and stepped over to the box. “I hope my attitude hasn’t spoiled the surprise for you.”
When he opened the box and began to remove the supplies, she clapped with delight. “Oh Trent, how wonderful.” She picked up an object that was sharp on one end. “What is this?”
“That’s called a stylus. It’s sort of a pencil.” He pulled out a flat, wide metal object with tiny holes. “This is the slate. The paper goes between these two parts. You punch the stylus through to make numbers and letters.”
“Oh.” Confusion crossed her face. “How can I ever learn this?”
“There are instruction books in here for teaching Braille. Both reading and writing.” He smiled. “They taught me the basics. I’ll show you what I know.”
Abigail went from one item to the next, awestruck. When they’d examined every object and riffled through the pages of the teaching manuals, they returned everything back to the box and Trent carried it up to her classroom.
“Trent, how can I ever thank you? Lily Ann will be so excited.”
“Oh, wait. I almost forgot something.”
He went back downstairs and retrieved the child-size cane from the infirmary then went back upstairs.
“Here you go. I hope you have better luck getting her to use it than the rest of us did.”
She put the cane away and sat down looking a little over-whelmed. “Trent I’m going to have to go slowly. There’s so much for her to learn. Don’t be disappointed if it takes awhile.” She bent her head and a ringlet fell across her cheek.
Trent reached over and brushed it back. “A little at a time. Of course. Step-by-step.”
Just like his relationship with Abigail. One step at a time. There was no rush.
❧
Abigail had never had such mixed feelings. One moment, excitement and joy. The next minute, fear would over-whelm her.
Why hadn’t she been content to teach what she knew? How could she have been so egotistical as to think she could take on such an enormous task. First she’d have to teach herself Braille. Then she’d need to actually learn to read it. Then use the stylus and slate to write words and stories and lessons for Lily Ann.
It was too much. She should have taken off a few weeks and gone to the school to learn.
Finally she calmed down enough to think straight. What was it Trent had said? Step-by-step.
Of course. She arranged everything in the cupboard in the order in which she’d use them. Then she took the dreaded stylus and slate and put them away, too. She took out the Learning Braille book and carried it up to her room. She’d study it in her spare time. And as soon as she learned something new, she’d teach it to Lily Ann. They’d be learning together.
On Wednesday she and Lily Ann walked to their special lesson place and sat down beneath their tree. “Lily, the leaves feel a little damp today. Even through the blanket.”
Lily ran her hand over the blanket. “It’s not wet. Just cold. The ground isn’t as warm anymore.”
“Well, it is October.” A few leaves had turned brown and fallen to the ground. But the live oaks were as green as they’d been in July. Apparently they really did stay green all year.
She pulled out a card containing the alphabet. “Look, Lily. I have something new for you to learn. She placed the card on Lily Ann’s lap and guided her finger to a raised dot. “That’s an A.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Is it Braille?”
“Yes. The key to your new world of adventure.”
“When will you teach me?”
“I hope to understand it well enough so that I can begin teaching you the first letters in two weeks.”
“So one dot is A ?”
“Yes, but there is more to it than that. The placement of the dot is important too. There are six places, you see. But I don’t want to confuse you.”
The expression on Lily Ann’s face showed that Abigail had already confused her.
Abigail patted her hand. “Don’t worry. Learning to read and write print is difficult at first, too. You’ll learn. We both will. Soon you’ll be able to read to your mama and papa.”
“Oh Miss Abigail. They’ll be so happy.” She handed the card back. “Can we do our signs now?”
Abigail laughed. “Yes, we can. Now what am I going to do if the sighted children decide they want to learn Braille just as you wished to learn signs?”
“Teach them, I guess.”
“You guess? I guess, too.”
Their laughter rang out across the small clearing.
After their lesson time was over, they gathered their books and papers and went in to dinner.
Abigail entered the foyer in time to see Trent offer his arm to P.H. She murmured something, and they both laughed as they walked into the dining room. Abigail’s heart sank. Was Trent attracted to the new director he’d been so fired up against?
Oh. She chided herself. Why shouldn’t he be? She, herself, certainly had no claim on him. And there was no denying the lady was very beautiful.
Her appetite suddenly gone, she stood for a moment, undecided about going in. Perhaps she’d go upstairs and study her Braille for a while. She had no class for two hours.
The trill of P.H.’s laughter floated through the door. What was she finding so funny?
Abigail lifted her chin and stepped into the room. Trent rose as she approached her chair. He pulled it out for her. She glanced around, relieved to see P.H. seated between Charles and Howard.
How silly of her to imagine Trent was interested in the older woman. Why, she must be fifteen years older than he was.
“How is the Braille coming along?” His eyes seemed to caress her, and suddenly she felt giddy.
“It’s a little daunting, but I’m sure I’ll be able to learn it.”
“New things can often seem daunting, Abigail. I’ve no doubt you will conquer it in due time. Remember, one step at a time.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Dr. Trent.”
“Doctor, I’d like to applaud you.” P.H. glanced from Trent to Abigail. “As well as Miss James. When word gets around about how progressive this school is, I’m sure we’ll have more students applying for entry.”
Trent frowned and gave a short laugh. “I think we have about as many as we can handle for the present. Sometimes when quantity increases, quality decreases.”
“Yes, sometimes it does, but it doesn’t have to. More space and additional qualified staff can usually take care of that problem.”
“You may be right.” Trent took a drink of water. “But for now, I think we’ll leave well enough alone.”
“Even if there is a need? There aren’t that many schools for the deaf or the blind in this state.” She leaned forward, her face serious.
“I’m not sure there is a need. How many deaf or blind children could there be in this state?”
“Probably more than you think. But I wasn’t speaking of taking only Georgia children. Some states have no facilities at all.”
Abigail frowned. P.H. was right. She needed to be very diligent in learning to teach the blind. And the other teachers should learn as well. She glanced at Trent, who focused on his meal. But at least he didn’t say no again.
eighteen
Harsh, cold wind sneaked its way down the back of Trent’s neck in spite of his heavy jacket. Wishing he’d worn gloves and a wool scarf, he yanked his collar up and shivered, urging Warrior into a gallop. The norther had come up during the night, dusting the grass and trees with a light frost. Only the second week in November, it was early for a cold front in South Georgia.
He’d had a slow week at his office at Mimosa Junction this week and hoped it would remain the same. He hadn’t been to the school in several days, and anyway, Abigail had been so busy lately learning and teaching, he’d hardly had a chance to speak to her.
On the other hand, he’d spent most of his ti
me at the school with P.H. They’d discovered many interests in common, and he admired her business astuteness and insight. He chuckled. She had slowly won him over to the possibility of adding more students. If it proved true that there was a need they could fulfill, then come spring he’d start searching for more teachers.
He slowed Warrior to a trot when he reached the gate and leaned over to lift the wooden latch. Albert was nowhere in sight when he pulled up to the barn, so he led Warrior into his stall and removed the saddle and bridle.
Albert came rushing in. “Sorry, Dr. Trent. Just finished up my breakfast. Shore is a cold, frosty day.”
“Yes it is. If you plan to be out here today, you need to stoke that stove up more. I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”
“More important not to let the livestock get too hot. I’ll be fine. You know I don’t get sick.” He twisted his mouth and squinted his eyes in thought. “But I reckon I got a little rheumatiz’ in that arm I broke.”
“That’s very likely. Use the liniment I gave you.” Trent waved and headed for the house, hoping since it was Saturday Abigail might have a few minutes to talk to him.
The murmur of female voices drew him to the parlor. Virgie, Helen, P.H., and Abigail were ensconced on the chairs and sofas. Bright-colored fabric covered their laps, spilling over onto the floor. All eyes turned on him as he stood, feeling helplessly out of place. A pretty shade of pink washed over Abigail’s cheeks.
“Dr. Trent!” P.H. bolted out of her chair, fabric tumbling onto the floor. “Just the man I wanted to see. I have a job for you.” She sailed across the room and took his arm, leading him into the foyer.
Trent glanced back, but Abigail ducked her head and gazed intently at the red satin on her lap.
“I needed an excuse to escape. Never was much for creating things with a needle and thread.” She laughed. “Now I’ll have to find something for you to do so I won’t be guilty of lying.”
“What are they making? Everything is red and green.”
“Costumes for the Christmas concert.”
“We’re having a Christmas concert? Whose idea was that? They usually do a nativity play.”
“They’ll still have the play. The concert is extra.” She smiled. “It was Abigail’s idea. And I agree.”
“But all the children are deaf except for Lily Ann. How will they sing?”
“You’ll be amazed. Just wait.” She tapped a finger against her lips for a moment; then her eyes brightened. “I know. We’ll tour the third floor.”
Puzzled, Trent gazed at her in confusion. “What on earth for? The third floor has been closed since the family lived here. It’s only used for storage. The maids dust and air the rooms out every few weeks, but that’s all.”
“Yes, but we’ll need it when we have more students. Let’s take a look and see what can be done with it.”
Trent shrugged. “All right, you’re the director.”
She stopped and turned her eyes full on him, a smile parting her lips. “You do realize my trial period is over. If you want me to leave, now is the time to say so.”
He gave her a look of surprise. “I’d forgotten all about that, P.H. I think you’re an excellent director. If you want the position, it’s yours.”
“Good.” She looped her arm through his. “Let’s go look at that third floor, shall we?”
Trent hadn’t even seen the third-floor rooms since he brought some boxes down last Christmas. He sneezed as P.H. stopped on the landing. “Seems like it might be time to dust again.”
She laughed. “A little dust never hurt anyone.” She glanced to their left then to the right. The hallway stretched the width of the house in both directions then turned. “How many rooms are on this floor?”
“Let’s see.” Trent thought for a moment. “The old nursery is to the right. It consists of a parlor/playroom, a classroom, two large bedrooms, and the nanny’s room. To the right there are three rooms which Virgie once told me were occupied by overflow guests when the house was full. Around the bend, in both wings are more rooms. They’ve been used for storage for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what their use was originally. Perhaps they were occupied by house servants.”
“Well, let’s look at the nursery quarters first.” She led the way and threw open double doors into a huge, empty room. “The playroom?”
“Yes, this was the playroom, and the schoolroom was just beyond. Although, it’s hard to tell with all the furniture gone.”
“And where might that be?” The eagerness in her voice awoke something in him. This was his heritage. His father and aunts must have spent their childhoods in these rooms.
“I suppose in the attic or perhaps stored in some of the other rooms. I’ll ask Virgie.”
They wandered from room to room, actually finding some nice pieces of furniture in a few, but mostly they were either empty or filled with trunks and boxes.
P.H. opened a door in one of the rear halls and gave a gasp. “Look, bed frames. Dressers. Nightstands. Just standing here.”
“There must be mattresses somewhere,” Trent mused, running his hand across an oak headboard.
“Probably not in great condition after all these years. We’ll need to have new ones made or purchase ready-made ones.”
Trent frowned. “You’re pretty sure the school is going to grow.”
“I know it is. I feel it in my bones.” She smiled. “And besides, didn’t you tell me the St. Louis school was overcrowded?” She perched on the edge of a straight chair.
“Yes, but they’re getting ready to build on.”
“But if they are overcrowded, that indicates a need. We have to be ready to meet the need, Trent.”
He tapped his fingers on the top of a small nightstand. “All right, P.H. We’ll start getting the rooms ready with what we have in storage. But I’m not going to buy a lot of extra furniture and equipment until we’re sure we’ll need them.”
“Perhaps we should move the school to the third floor and use all the second-floor rooms for bedrooms.”
Trent threw his hands up and laughed. “Maybe we need to call a meeting with the entire staff and get some ideas before we do anything.”
She snapped her fingers. “You’re absolutely right. We should get some input. I’ll schedule a meeting right away. Which day will work best for you?”
“I’m a doctor. Remember? Just set your day and time, and I’ll be there if I possibly can. How’s that?”
She frowned. “Not great, but I suppose it will have to do.”
They checked the attic and found mostly broken pieces of furniture and old trunks. Trent couldn’t help wondering what the trunks held and determined to check for himself someday. But for now, he planned to escape from P.H. and her plans and try to get Abigail alone for a few moments.
❧
Never had sewing seemed such a chore. Abigail concentrated on her stitches, determined to do a good job on the costumes in spite of her turmoil. She barely heard a word of Helen’s chattering. Virgie wasn’t saying much either. Could she be concerned about Trent and P.H. as well?
Oh for goodness’ sake. Why should she be? And why should Abigail be concerned? It was none of her business if Trent had fallen for the director. But they’d been upstairs for over an hour. For what possible reason did they go up there?
That was it. She refused to sit here, a captive of her own foolish thoughts. She stuck her needle in a pincushion and stood, laying the costume on her chair. “Who wants a cup of tea?”
“I’d love one.” Helen started to rise. “I’ll help.”
“No, no. I can get it. Virgie? How about you?”
“No thank you. Don’t want anything.” She smoothed out the skirt she was working on, gazing at it with a critical eye. “This seam look straight to you?”
Abigail was crossing the foyer with the tea tray when Trent and P.H. came down the stairs. P.H.’s head was thrown back, and her laughter preceded her down the stairway.
They r
eached the foyer, and Trent stepped over to Abigail and took the tray from her. “Let me carry this in for you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Quincy.”
He gave her a surprised glance. “Why so formal?”
“Very well, Dr. Trent.” She pressed her lips together and headed for her chair.
“Abigail, I wonder if I might speak with you when you’re not busy.”
She glanced at him, searching his face. “Yes, of course. We’ll be stopping for the midday meal soon. Do you want to talk to me before or after dinner?”
“After, if that’s convenient. It may take awhile.”
P.H. frowned. “I was going to schedule the meeting with the staff after dinner.”
Trent threw her a quick glance. “Surely the meeting can wait. I’d think perhaps after school one day. After all, it is the weekend.” He turned back to Abigail.
P.H. slapped her forehead. “Forgive me. My zeal overcomes my common sense sometimes.”
Trent laughed. “Your zeal is the result of a good heart. So I think it can be forgiven.”
Abigail pushed back the pang of jealousy that stabbed at her. Trent was right. P.H. was a good-hearted woman as well as a wonderful director. She deserved the praise.
Abigail forced her attention back to her sewing as Trent left.
P.H. sat and picked up the fabric she’d been working on earlier. “He’s such a delight to be around, and now that he’s decided I’m not the big bad wolf, he’s been very open to some of my ideas about the school.” She gave Abigail a curious look. “However, the man needs a wife to smooth out the rough edges.”
Dismay washed over Abigail. Had P.H. designated herself as the wife Trent needed?
“When are you going to be kind to the good doctor and let him know you return his affections?”
Startled, Abigail looked at P.H. “Excuse me?”
“Oh come now, Abigail. Anyone can see that Trent is enamored of you and that you return the feeling. That is, everyone knows it but you and Trent.”
The smile started in Abigail’s heart, spread to her lips, and set her eyes glowing. Warmth in her cheeks was a pretty good sign her face was red for everyone to see. She must have been wrong about Trent and P.H.
Whispers of the Wind Page 14