The Dawn of a Dream (10 page)

Belle waved as she walked to the Lecture Hall. “Best of luck. I know you’ll be successful.”

Fourteen curious faces turned in Luellen’s direction when she entered the schoolroom. Pausing to hang her cloak on a peg, she was engulfed by the aroma of damp wool and oiled floors. Between the windows on one side, a stove glowed with heat.

A stocky woman turned from the blackboard where she’d written practice words for the day’s lesson. “Children, this is Miss McGarvie. She will be your teacher this morning.” She left the board and held out her hand. “I’m Mrs. Guthrie. I graduated from Allenwood’s program two years ago.”

Luellen clasped Mrs. Guthrie’s hand. The teacher’s glasses, perched at the end of a round nose, magnified her pale blue eyes.

“I’m happy to meet you,” Luellen said. “Please tell me what you’d like me to cover today.”

The children whispered and fidgeted in their seats while Mrs. Guthrie showed her the place in the first reader that she’d been using when she wrote on the blackboard. The whispering grew louder. Smiling, Mrs. Guthrie bent her head near Luellen’s ear. “They’re all yours. I will be in the back of the room, but only as an observer.” She whisked away.

Luellen stepped to the front of the room, her nerves jumping. Folding her arms across her middle, she arranged her face in a pleasant expression and waited, her eyes moving around the room. Each desk held two children, and had been arranged so the smallest ones sat in front. Gradually the whispers stopped.

“I see you have new words this morning,” she said. “Can anyone read these for me?” She fought to keep her voice from shaking.

Hands waved in the air.

A round-cheeked boy bounced in his seat. He looked as though he’d burst if he didn’t get to recite what was written on the blackboard.

Luellen pointed at him. “What is your name?”

“Joshua.”

“All right, Joshua. Please read the first two words.”

He stood. Luellen noticed he seemed small for a six- or seven-year-old. His dark hair had obviously been cut by using a bowl for shape, and his shirt was patched. “Good. Rolled. Every.” Joshua sat down, looking pleased with himself.

She shot a glance at the back of the room. How would Mrs. Guthrie handle this? Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead. “Very good. But that was three words, wasn’t it?”

“Joshua always does that, Teacher,” a blonde girl said. “He thinks he’s so smart.”

“Do not.”

Luellen cocked her head, folded her arms again, and waited. The children glanced at one another, then focused their attention on her.

“There will be enough time for each of you to read to me today. But you must wait until I call on you.” She turned to the blonde girl. “What is your name?”

“Cassie.”

“Would you read me the next two words, please, Cassie?”

“Af-ter. Be-gan.” She smoothed the skirt of her long-sleeved brown dress.

“Thank you.” Luellen called on children until all the words on the board had been pronounced, then sat behind the teacher’s desk and lifted the reader. “Open your books to the pancake story, please.”

The rustle of pages filled the room as books were opened, one to a desk. Heads bent together over the readers.

“Who’d like to read first?”

Joshua’s hand sprang into the air.

Luellen smiled at him. “Let’s give someone else a chance.” Her eyes found one of the girls toward the back. Curly hair fought with the braids she wore—the curls winning. She reminded Luellen of herself as a child. “What is your name, dear?”

“Elizabeth Goins. Can I read?”

“
May
I read. Yes, please do.”

Elizabeth bent over the book, her finger following the text. “A big fat cook made a big fat pan . . . cake. Near the cook were seven hun . . . hun . . .”

“Hungry!” Joshua shouted.

Luellen held up her index finger. “Manners, Joshua. It’s Elizabeth’s turn. Please apologize.”

Joshua blushed and lowered his head. “Sorry.”

Elizabeth resumed the story. When she finished the page, her seatmate had a turn. Once the children had read to the end of the tale, it was time for sums, geography, and finally, dinner. The room filled with the sound of pails being opened and food being unwrapped.

Luellen’s stomach growled. She’d been too nervous to eat much breakfast, and now she felt ready to collapse. The noon bell rang from the chapel tower. If she hurried, she could arrive in the dining hall in time for the meal. But first, she needed to hear the teacher’s assessment of her performance. Her hands shook as she waited.

“You were wonderful,” Mrs. Guthrie said in a voice meant for Luellen’s ears alone. “The children responded to you very well. I’m going to enjoy working with you this term.” She patted Luellen’s shoulder. “Now, I imagine you’re ready for some food. Go on with you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Luellen blew out a breath. “Thank you. I’ll be here.”

When she stepped outside, the wind caught at her hood and blew it off her head. Rain splattered her face. She pulled the hood up, holding it with one hand while she darted across the street and into the Ladies Hall.

She inhaled. Pea soup. She hoped they had cornbread with it. Luellen shook the rain from her cloak and hung it near the door. If she hurried, she could have dinner and still arrive at the afternoon elocution class on time.

As she walked toward the dining room, part of her mind remained on the children in the Model School. Joshua was such a darling boy, so precocious. And Elizabeth—she’d love to take her under her wing and help her become an avid reader. For the first time, the child she carried in her womb became real to her. Would it be a boy or a girl? What would he or she look like?

When she passed the parlor, Mrs. Bledsoe intercepted her.

“You have a visitor, Miss McGarvie. Your cousin, from Chicago.”

Luellen reached out and steadied herself against the wall. She had no cousin in Chicago. Her visitor could only be one person. Heart pounding, she followed the matron into the parlor and found herself face-to-face with Brendan O’Connell.

He stepped forward and took her hand. “Darlin’ Luellen. It’s been a long time.”

She stared at him, speechless.

“You’re surprised. I should’ve written first, but I hardly had time, what with one thing and another.” His grip on her hand tightened.

Mrs. Bledsoe bustled over, obviously taken in by his handsome face and broad-shouldered build. “Do sit down, Mr. O’Connell. How kind of you to pay a visit to your cousin.” A puzzled expression crossed her face. “With that Irish accent, how is it you and Miss McGarvie are cousins?”

“By marriage, ma’am.”

Luellen found her voice. “Actually, a former marriage, Mrs. Bledsoe. Technically, we are no longer related.” She jerked her hand free.

The matron stared from one to the other. “This is all too confusing for me.” She turned to Brendan and pointed at a chair next to the fire. “Won’t you have a seat? I’m sure you and Miss McGarvie have much to talk about.”

“Indeed we do, but I’d rather escort my cousin on a walk around the grounds.” He gripped Luellen’s elbow. “Wouldn’t you like to show me your school?”

“But it’s raining,” Mrs. Bledsoe said. “Surely you’d be more comfortable in here.”

“Ah, we Irish are used to rain. Reminds us of home.” He propelled Luellen toward the door. “Let’s get our wraps and step out into the lovely afternoon.”

Once in the entryway, he released her arm and dropped an oilcloth poncho over his head. Fuming, she threw her cloak over her shoulders and stalked to the door.

“Allow me.” Brendan held the door open for her. Turning toward Mrs. Bledsoe, he said, “I’ll have her back shortly. Thank you for being so gracious.”

“Well . . . I’m not sure . . . this is irregular . . .” The matron wrung her hands.

Brendan sent her a wink. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” He closed the door in her flushed face.

Luellen strode ahead of him along the gravel path toward Allenwood Hall’s covered front steps. Brendan grabbed her arm. “Slow down.”

She shook him loose. “I’m not going to get soaked. You can tell me what you’re doing here as soon as we get out of the rain.” She covered the remaining distance at a trot and turned to face him when she reached the top of the stairs. “Talk. How did you find me?”

“’Twasn’t that hard. You mooned over that Allenwood letter every time you thought I wasn’t looking. So I had to read it, didn’t I? And here you are, sure.”

“What do you want?”

He stood close enough for her to see drops of moisture beading on his chestnut curls. “You caused me a great deal of grief, sending that sheriff after me with a subpoena.” His blue eyes shot fury. “I had to talk fast to keep my father-in-law from booting me out of the house.”

“
I
caused
you
trouble? What do you think you’ve done to me?” She started to throw the fact of her pregnancy in his face, but stopped short. No. He’d have no part of this baby.

Brendan stepped closer, pinning Luellen against the wall by resting one hand on the bricks behind her. His breath smelled of ale. “Looks like I did you a favor. Now you can do one for me.”

“Why would I—”

“Just stay away from me and my life. No subpoenas, no lawyers. I’m done with you, Luellen.”

She pushed him away. “You should’ve read that subpoena instead of trying to lie your way out of it. You wasted a trip. We’re divorced. I never want to see you again.”

“Miss McGarvie?” Mr. Price stood next to the open door, staring between her and Brendan.

She clapped a hand over her lips. How much had he heard?

“Are you all right?” He moved to her side. “Is this gentleman bothering you?”

Brendan faced him. “I was just leaving, laddie.” The corner of his mouth twisted in a sneer. “
Miss
McGarvie and me are done with our conversation.”

Luellen watched him stride away, her heart pounding in her throat. Thank goodness he lived in Chicago. They’d never cross paths again.

Mr. Price lifted an umbrella from a wooden stand near the door and fumbled it open. “I was just going to deliver a message to the Lecture Hall. May I escort you to your next class?”

She bit the inside of her lip. “Yes, please. I would appreciate an escort.”

November arrived, and with it the looming date for examinations. With a zoology textbook open, Luellen sorted a list of animals into their proper classifications. Horses, snakes, frogs, falcons—each had to be placed under their correct heading. If the test were timed, she’d need her placement to be automatic. She rested her head on one hand and turned to another list. Her eyes hurt, and so did her back.

Tap, tap, tap. Tap tap
. Belle pushed the door open. “Brought you some shortbread. My mother sent a box of treats.” Her face lacked its usual bright smile.

Luellen leaned back in her chair. “You’re heaven sent. I’ve been looking for an excuse to stop studying.”

“No better reason than enjoying some of my mother’s baking. I hope someday to be half the cook she is.”

“Our mothers spend more time cooking than we do.” Luellen took a shortbread square and bit into it. Buttery softness spread over her tongue. “Delicious.” She pushed the tin toward Belle. “Join me.”

Belle heaved a deep sigh. “Not right now.” She flopped on Luellen’s bed. “Mother sent a letter with the sweets. Things are not going well for my father’s bank. They’ll be traveling to New York at the end of the month to meet with investors.”

“The end of the month? But that’s when winter vacation begins.” Luellen stood, careful to keep her shawl draped over her midsection. “You won’t be at home by yourself, will you?”

“I won’t be home at all—at least not until they return. My father has made arrangements for me to stay here until mid-December.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m trying to be brave, but . . . oh, Luellen, I’m so disappointed! I know we don’t have to be back until February, but I’ll miss nearly a month at home.” She put her hands over her face and sobbed. “Can you imagine what it’ll be like? Just me and Mrs. Bledsoe?”

Luellen sat next to Belle and hugged her. She’d never seen her sunny friend so upset. “I don’t blame you for crying. The thought of spending a month in Mrs. Bledsoe’s company would send me into hysterics.”

Belle sniffled. “Maybe I could ask my father to allow me to stay at Mrs. Hawks’s boardinghouse. She’s a dear soul.”

“Let me pray about this. Maybe there’s something we can do.” An idea glimmered at the back of Luellen’s mind. She handed Belle a clean handkerchief.

“I’m open to suggestions.” She glanced at the textbook and papers on the table. “You go on with your studies. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Instead of returning to her zoology lists after her friend left, Luellen closed the book and stared out at the black night. Her thoughtful face reflected back at her in the glass. She took a blank sheet of paper and scribbled a hasty note to her parents. If it went into the post tomorrow, perhaps they’d receive it before winter vacation.

Luellen rolled her shoulders to loosen tight muscles. Mrs. Hale, the proctor, looked up from her desk at the front of the examination room. “Are you finished, Miss McGarvie?”

“No. Just taking a breath. How much more time do I have?”

Mrs. Hale checked a pocket watch lying open on the desktop. “Half an hour.”

Closing her eyes, Luellen tried to picture the structure of a flower from the botany textbook. Which was the stigma, and which was the anther? After two hours of answering questions and illustrating her responses, her mind felt drained of knowledge. She turned the page. Almost finished. She dipped her pen and filled in the last answers, closing the examination booklet just as the supper bell rang.

“Time.” Mrs. Hale collected the booklet. “If you wish, you may stop by Dr. Alexander’s office in the morning for the results. I’m sure you’d like to know how you fared before leaving for winter vacation.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hale. I appreciate it.” Luellen knew the woman’s offer meant she’d be spending her evening grading the answers. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It’s kind of you to do this for me.”

“Dr. Alexander specifically requested that I give him the results as soon as possible.” Her eyes appraised Luellen. “He’s taken quite an interest in you, it seems.”

Luellen couldn’t stop the guilty flush that rose to her cheeks. What would he think if he knew she was a divorced woman, and pregnant to boot? He mustn’t find out.

She hurried from the room and dashed through a light rainfall that misted the campus. Belle greeted her when she entered the Ladies Hall. “Well? How was the examination?”

“I had answers to the questions. Tomorrow I’ll learn whether they were the right ones.” Luellen shook raindrops from her cloak and hung it on a peg. “What are we being served tonight?”

Belle sniffed the air. “Something disgusting involving cabbage, I’d say.” She linked her arm through Luellen’s. “Let’s go get it over with.”

The following morning Luellen dressed carefully. Her blue shawl with the long fringe contrasted well with her yellow calico dress. By cinching her corset as tight as possible, her rounded abdomen wasn’t apparent. Mentally, she apologized to her baby for squeezing him or her. As soon as she got home, she’d sew another dress or two designed to conceal her figure. Could she make the new clothes without telling her mother why she needed them?

After dropping her cloak over her shoulders, she left the room. She’d worry about her mother later—now examination results were paramount in her thoughts.

Last night’s rain and subsequent freeze had left the gravel walk icy. As Luellen picked her way toward Allenwood Hall, she observed the deserted campus. Most of the students had left for vacation as soon as their last classes ended. She wondered whether Mr. Price would be on duty.

When she entered the anteroom outside Dr. Alexander’s office, Mr. Price’s desk was cleaned off. Apparently he too was at home with family. Too bad. His flattering attention would have boosted her flagging confidence. What if she’d failed the examination? She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, knocking on the registrar’s door with a shaky hand.

“Come in.” Dr. Alexander’s face broke into a smile when he saw Luellen. “I have good news for you, Miss McGarvie.” He held up the booklet. “You breezed through these questions with scarcely an incorrect answer. I commend your diligence.” He leaned back in his chair, fingers laced over his midsection. “Rarely have we had a student with such promise. You may register for the next term with no reservations whatsoever.”

“Thank you. That’s welcome news.”

Relief flooded through her—one hurdle crossed. But two higher ones waited. By February, how much would her pregnancy show? And would she be able to earn enough over the break to return at all?