The Dawn of a Dream (16 page)

Daniel snickered. “You always did have a quick tongue,” he said under his breath.

Papa’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose. Anger chased worry from his face. “I’ll be in my office.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re to rest as soon as you’re finished, do you understand?”

She nodded, embarrassed at his tone but knowing she deserved the rebuke. Her face hot, Luellen pointed at a chair. “Let’s get started.” She noticed Daniel had taken pains with his appearance again. He wore a fresh white shirt and a waistcoat under his jacket. His hair had been cut into a neat trim just below his ears.

As they reviewed last week’s words, Luellen’s admiration for his efforts grew. She opened the reader to “The Pancake,” smiling approval as he made his way through the story. They both chuckled at the ending.

“I’ve heard that one before,” Daniel said. “Only it was a ’gator and a duck.” He grinned. “Got to be careful who you trust.”

“That’s true.” She turned to the next story and printed the practice words on the slate. Together they worked through pronunciation. By the time he left, Luellen felt drained but satisfied. Daniel was making progress—she’d been right to insist that they not interrupt the lessons. But why did he wait until now to decide to learn to read?

She climbed the stairs to her room to slip into her nightgown, pulling herself along by using the handrail. Each step was an effort. She’d rest, as Papa ordered, but wouldn’t tell him how tired she was. As long as she had no further symptoms, nothing would stop her from returning to school.

Luellen folded her quilt over the top of clothing and books in her trunk. Tomorrow morning she’d add her night things and be ready to leave. Three weeks had passed and all seemed normal with her baby. New dresses hid her changing figure. Swallowing a flutter of tension, she dared to hope that she’d be able to complete the term.

Papa tapped on the door frame. “Daniel stopped by to see you. He’s downstairs in the sitting room.”

“We finished with our lessons on Saturday.”

“He said he has something for you.”

“Oh, Papa, I pray he hasn’t come courting.”

He smiled at her. “Instead of jumping to conclusions, why don’t you go see what he wants?”

She followed him down the stairs. Daniel turned from his spot in front of the fire, his face breaking into a grin when he saw her. “Miss Luellen. I couldn’t let you leave without thanking you again for helping me.” He dug in his pocket and handed her a gold coin.

“Five dollars! You already paid me for tutoring. I can’t accept this.”

He closed her fingers around the gold piece. “I want you should have it. Because of you I have big plans for my future. When you come back in the spring, I’ll have a surprise for you.”

“But—”

“I got to get back to work. Good luck with school and all.”

After he left, she peeked out the window and saw him drive away, his wagon loaded with wooden crates. What surprise did he have planned for her in the spring?

Shaking her head in wonder, Luellen looked down at the Liberty Head half eagle in her palm. Indeed, the Lord sent help in unexpected ways.

Steam poured from the pistons of the locomotive, hiding the wheels in a storm cloud of white. Papa helped Luellen from the carriage onto the train platform, his face set in resignation. “I hoped you’d change your mind at the last minute. I won’t stop you, but you must know how worried I am about letting you go.”

Luellen pressed her fingers against her lips. So much had changed since she first left for Allenwood. Was she doing the right thing? How many times could she stand up to her parents, knowing the pain she caused them? She drew a shuddering breath. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

He held out his arms and she burrowed into them, tears stinging her eyes. “Thank you for understanding. No one ever had a better father.”

“Bo-oard!” the conductor called. “All aboard!”

Papa walked her to the steps of the passenger car. She turned and kissed his cheek, grateful that Mama had stayed home. Two heartrending good-byes at the station would have been too many.

The train jolted forward. Through the glass, Luellen saw Papa watching. Were those tears on his cheeks?

When the locomotive rolled into the Allenwood station, Luellen peered out the window at the crowd of people on the platform, wondering if Belle might be among them.

She pressed her hand against her abdomen, concealed beneath layers of fabric. By dressing carefully, she felt sure she could keep her condition a secret. Her mind balked when she tried to think beyond her child’s birth. Next year would take care of itself. For now she’d concentrate on her studies and passing the final examination.

“This your stop, miss?” the conductor asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” She winced when a cramp angled across her back.

“You all right?”

She rubbed at the pain. “I’m fine. Just been sitting for too long.” She prayed that was the case.

As she descended the steps, she glanced around. Snow-laden clouds crowded the sky, submerging Allenwood in gloom. She thought of the months since she first arrived, and all that had happened. Everything had been new and unfamiliar. Now she felt like an experienced traveler. Luellen tucked gloved hands inside her cloak for warmth while she waited for her trunk.

An omnibus driver tipped his cap as he approached. “Where are you headed, miss?”

“The Normal School.” She pointed at the baggage cart. “Could you please fetch my trunk for me?”

“Right away.”

When she climbed into the omnibus, she glanced at the empty rear seat where Belle had been sitting when they first met.
Lord, give me the courage to be honest with her.
The thought of living next door to each other for the next three months with a barrier between them was too much to bear. She’d swallow her pride and apologize as soon as she saw her friend.

As the conveyance traveled along College Avenue, Luellen noticed Mrs. Hawks bundled in a shawl, sweeping snow from the front porch of her boardinghouse. Inside, a lamp glowed in the front window. The hours she’d spent with the landlady were pleasant memories. As soon as she was settled in the Ladies Hall, she’d pay a visit. Maybe Belle would join her.

Luellen followed Matron Bledsoe to the foot of the stairs. “Your trunk’s been delivered to your room,” Mrs. Bledsoe said. “Everything’s clean and ready. I checked it myself.”

Luellen doubted it, considering Matron’s aversion to climbing steps, but she thanked her nonetheless.

“Your friend Miss Brownlee returned yesterday. She’s out right now, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you again.”

“I’ve missed her.”

Mrs. Bledsoe gathered Luellen’s hands in hers. “I’ve missed both of you.” She stepped back. “You’ve gotten a bit heavier over the winter. It suits you. Lean-fleshed girls are so unappealing, don’t you think?”

Suppressing a smile, Luellen gazed at the stout woman. “I’ve never thought about it before, but you may be right.” Excusing herself, she mounted the stairs, wishing she could share the exchange with Belle.

Once in her room she hung her dresses in the wardrobe and spread the quilt over the bed. She’d finish unpacking later. Right now she wanted to meet with Dr. Alexander and register for the term.

Luellen’s boots crunched on the gravel path as she strode toward Allenwood Hall. She kept a tight grip on her reticule. Through the satin lining, the gold coins felt smooth beneath her fingers. She hurried down the hallway to Dr. Alexander’s office.

Mr. Price stood, his face alight. “Miss McGarvie. Welcome back. I trust your holiday was a pleasant respite.” His wispy moustache had filled in somewhat, and joined a new fringe of whiskers surrounding his chin.

“Yes. I enjoyed spending time with my family.” She turned toward the registrar’s door. “Is Dr. Alexander in?”

“He is. I’ll announce you.” Mr. Price smoothed his jacket and preceded her through the anteroom. He rapped on the door. “Miss McGarvie is here to see you, sir.”

“Tell her to come in.”

When Luellen entered his office, he came around the desk and pulled out a chair for her. “So glad to see you back. You’re looking well rested—blooming in fact, if I may say so.”

“Thank you.” A flush traveled over her face. Blooming was the right word. “I want to register for this term.” She patted her reticule. “I assume the cost is the same as last fall’s.”

“It is.” He turned a page in the ledger.

Opening the drawstring on her bag, she removed the gold pieces and placed them in front of him, her fingers trembling. The money on his desk represented the majority of her savings. She’d have to watch every cent to get through to the end of the term. She squeezed her hands together in her lap and watched while he entered the amount on a half-filled page of numbers.

Dr. Alexander leaned back in his chair. “Model School resumes next week. With your permission, we’ll schedule you for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Mrs. Guthrie is most eager to work with you again.”

“And I with her.” Luellen smiled at the prospect of renewing her acquaintance with the children as well. She loved seeing the expressions on their faces when they learned and understood something new. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re most welcome. Feel free to call on me with any problems you may encounter this term.”

Luellen stepped outside as the bell announcing supper tolled, its resonant tone echoing across the shadowed campus. She was near enough to the steeple to feel the vibration in her bones. She picked up her pace. Even the prospect of an unappetizing meal excited her—it was good to be back.

A familiar voice greeted her when she entered Ladies Hall. “Luellen?” She whirled to see Belle smiling tentatively in her direction. “When did you arrive?”

Now’s the time to make things right, Luellen told herself, but the words froze in her throat. What if she couldn’t trust Belle to keep her secret?

“I got here this afternoon.” She kept her voice polite but not overwarm. “I just returned from registering for the term.”

Belle’s eyes searched her face, the welcoming smile on her lips fading. “I did that yesterday.” Her tone matched Luellen’s. “Would you like to sit with me at supper?”

“I’d be happy to.” A splinter broke away from the wall Luellen had built around herself. She’d risk the friendship for as long as it lasted—but she wouldn’t share the truth about her situation.

Once seated, with a bowl of salted beef and potatoes in front of her, Luellen glanced around the dining hall. “There are fewer girls here than there were last fall.”

“I expect our difficult economic times have forced some of them to miss this term.” Belle cut her stringy meat into bite-sized pieces. “My father is very dour about the prospects for the coming year.” A smile lifted her lips. “At least I was able to come back—and so were you. We still have our same rooms.”

“I wondered about that.” Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to room next to me after I treated you so unkindly.”

Belle’s face softened. “I know you were worried about your mother. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re upset.”

Shamed, Luellen looked down at her food. Leave it to Belle to forgive before she was asked. She raised her eyes. “That’s no excuse for rudeness. Are we still friends?”

“We’ve never stopped being friends as far as I’m concerned. My visit to your family was a joy. I’m so glad I got to meet your brother. He reminds me so much of you. Smart, amusing, cheerful. His homecoming must have been a special surprise.”

“It was.”

“He sent me a letter just before I left Springfield. He and the lieutenant had an uneventful journey to Missouri.” Belle blushed. “He said he’d like to see me again.”

Luellen choked down a lump of beef. Was Franklin the reason Belle was so eager to continue their friendship?

On Monday morning, Luellen slipped her petticoats over her head and tied them above her abdomen. The baby turned and kicked while she stepped into her wool challis dress. Cupping her hands around the movement, Luellen paused, relishing the sensation. “Good morning, my baby,” she whispered.

When she pushed her arms into the matching traveling sacque, she noted with satisfaction that it covered her from neckline to below her hips. Today would be a test. She couldn’t wear her cloak while teaching in the Model School. Would Mrs. Guthrie notice the difference in her appearance? Nerves twitching, she stepped into the corridor.

Belle joined her on the way to breakfast. “You’re wearing your new outfit. I remember when we selected the fabric.” She stepped back and surveyed Luellen. “That color is lovely on you. The braid trim around the jacket is especially attractive.”

Relieved, Luellen nodded her thanks. “Mama and I spent many days sewing after Christmas.” She didn’t mention that most of the garments had been for her baby’s layette.

“I’d love to have a new dress.” Belle smoothed the pleats on her plaid wool skirt. “But my father told us we’d have to make do until times get better.”

Luellen thought of her friend’s extensive wardrobe. Making do wouldn’t be much of a hardship. Her own challenge would be keeping her two dresses fresh-looking for the next two and a half months.

After breakfast, Luellen threw on her cloak and stepped into the cold, windy morning. Across Chestnut Street students filed into the Model School. She hurried along the path, crossing the road and climbing the steps of the school building.

As she reached for the door handle, a series of cramps jabbed her side. She bent forward, hands resting on her middle. Papa had explained that cramping meant her body was changing to accommodate the baby, but each time they occurred she felt a fresh pang of alarm. She waited several moments for the squeezing sensation to pass before stepping into the schoolroom.

Warmth and the faint odor of burning coal greeted her. Ice crystals etched the windows with feathery swirls, bathing the room in white light. Mrs. Guthrie glanced up from her desk. “Look who’s here, children. Miss McGarvie will be teaching you this morning.”

Luellen sought the faces of the children she remembered from the previous term. Joshua, Elizabeth, Cassie, and nearly a dozen others sent her welcoming smiles.

She unfastened her cloak and draped it over a peg in the entry. With her back to the room, Luellen adjusted the folds of the traveling sacque so that it hung smoothly over her dress.

When she turned, Mrs. Guthrie stood watching her, a quizzical expression on her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it and handed Luellen a book. “We’re doing sums this morning. Did you bring your lesson plan?”

“No.” She gulped. What a terrible beginning to the term. “I was preoccupied with . . . I just forgot. I’m so sorry.” She reached for her cloak. “I’ll go get it right now.”

Mrs. Guthrie laid a hand on her arm. “No need. You can show it to me on Wednesday. Meantime, mine’s on the desk. You may refer to that.”

Luellen felt her face flame as she took her position in front of the room. She shouldn’t allow personal distractions to affect her work. She opened the arithmetic book to the marked page and copied a series of addition facts on the blackboard, grateful for the time to gather her thoughts.

Lifting the pointer from the instructor’s desk, she tapped the first problem. “Who can tell me the answer to this one?”

To her surprise, normally eager Joshua sat still while several other children waved their hands in the air.