The Dawn of a Dream (20 page)

Mrs. Hawks turned from her chore and embraced Alma with dripping hands. The resemblance between them was plain, although Mrs. Hawks was thinner than her daughter and her sandy hair had been overtaken by gray. She smiled at Luellen. “I’m so glad you’ll be able to help me.” She waved at a stack of pots waiting to be washed. “By the end of the day, it’s all I can do to get through the dishes and prepare for breakfast.”

“I’ll do everything I can.” Luellen stepped forward. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have a place to stay.”

“Nonsense. I’m the one who’s grateful.” She rubbed perspiration from her forehead. “Let me show you your room. It’s not much, but the kitchen keeps it warm, and once you’re done cleaning up, you can study on the table in here.” Mrs. Hawks walked toward one of two doors. “That there’s the cellar,” she said, pointing. She opened the second door. “This will be yours.”

Not much bigger than a pantry, the rectangular space held a neatly made single bed. A washstand stood against the opposite wall, flanked by a narrow wardrobe. The small four-paned window at the end of the room was framed by tabbed blue curtains hanging from a wooden rod. Luellen could see why her study area would be in the kitchen. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Alma said you’ll be moving in this evening. Have you got someone to fetch your things?”

Luellen closed her eyes. She hadn’t considered that. The thought of facing Mrs. Bledsoe again was more than she could bear. She sank into a chair and pressed her fingertips against her temples.

Mrs. Hawks rested a hand on her shoulder. “The omnibus will be along in thirty minutes or so. Do you want me to have the driver stop at the school and bring your trunk on his way back to town?”

“Please.”

Later, once her belongings had been delivered, Luellen excused herself and closed the door to her tiny room. She unfastened the clasps on the trunk and drew her quilt into her arms. The downward spiral of her status at Allenwood over the past three days left her stunned. Sinking onto the bed, quilt hugged against her, she stared at the wall. The ceiling creaked as lodgers moved about overhead.

She’d need to arise at least two hours earlier to allow time to help with breakfast chores and walk the half mile to school. Tonight she had studies to think about, but weariness weighted her in place.

Was Papa right? Should she have stayed in Beldon Grove?

Several weeks later, Luellen shivered on a bench outside the Lecture Hall. Yesterday had been so warm she’d chosen to wear her yellow calico with a shawl this morning, but now she regretted the decision. The pages of the textbook she held fluttered under her fingers in the crisp wind.

Mr. Price walked by, eyes fixed on something in the distance.

“Good afternoon,” Luellen said. She knew he was ignoring her, but couldn’t resist jabbing at him.

He feigned surprise. “Miss . . . er . . . good afternoon.” He picked up his pace.

“Indeed it is,” she said to his retreating back. If anything positive could be said about her treatment on campus since the news of her condition spread, it was that Mr. Price had stopped fawning over her.

Belle dashed up, waving an envelope. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Luellen marked her place and closed the book. “Is that a letter? From Franklin?”

“It is. I snatched it from Mrs. Bledsoe’s grip—she was ready to send it back.” Belle thrust the envelope at Luellen.

Horrified, she read “No Longer A Resident. Return To Point Of Origin” scrawled over the address. “Oh my word. Maybe that’s why we haven’t heard anything for weeks. Do you suppose she returned his other letters?” She broke the seal on the envelope, drawing out the contents.

Belle frowned. “Then why would he have sent another one?”

Luellen shook her head. She’d notified her parents of her move without telling them why, and had assumed they’d pass the word to Franklin. Each day she’d checked the post. The more time that elapsed, the greater her fears that Ward’s wounds were so severe he’d been sent home—or worse. She didn’t know why the thought of not seeing him again bothered her. After all, he was simply her brother’s friend.

She patted the bench. “Sit. Maybe if we huddle together we’ll be warmer.”

“The bell for afternoon sessions will ring soon. Hurry and tell me what Franklin says.”

Luellen unfolded the pages, scanning through her brother’s careless penmanship. “He says he’s sorry he hasn’t written sooner. He was waiting until he had definite news for us.” She stopped talking and read ahead. “Oh dear. The poor man.”

“Who? What?” Belle crowded closer and peered over her shoulder.

“Ward—Lieutenant Calder—was wounded in the shoulder. The injury became corrupted and he spent more than two weeks in the post hospital. He was released on the thirtieth of March, with a crippled left arm.” She glanced at the top of the page. “Franklin wrote this two weeks ago, on April 1. He says Ward’s on restricted duty until he’s completely healed. The doctors hope he’ll be able to use his arm again, but they’re not sure.”

Belle covered her mouth with her fingers. “Do you suppose he’ll have to leave the Army?”

“I don’t know.” Sorrow clenched Luellen’s heart when she pictured his left arm hanging useless at his side. A person like Ward didn’t deserve such a fate.

She lifted the letter and read aloud.

Lt. Campion, the yellow dog who shot him, has been dishonorably discharged. He was caught passing Ward’s work off as his own. That’s why the duel. Guess he thought if he killed Ward no one could testify against him. Didn’t happen that way. Ward fired to one side, but Campion shot to kill. Couple inches closer and he’d of succeeded.

Doctor thinks Ward shouldn’t move his arm, but I’m making him use it. Otherwise he’ll turn into a tin soldier. He’s going to get furlough, so I want him to see Papa—I don’t trust the sawbones here.

Belle’s eyes pooled with sympathetic tears. “Your father can help, I just know it. When is Lieutenant Calder going to Beldon Grove?”

Luellen turned back to the letter. “He doesn’t say. Soon, I imagine.” She pointed at the last paragraph and smiled at Belle. “Franklin asks to be remembered to you, and hopes to get reacquainted one day.”

“I hope you don’t mind if we’re friends.” A worried expression crossed Belle’s blushing face.

Embarrassed over her earlier jealousy, Luellen fumbled with the textbook before tucking it under her arm. “Not at all. I’d be pleased.”

The summons for their afternoon sessions resonated from the walls of the stone building. As they walked to class, her mind remained on Ward. Would he be at her parents’ house when she arrived at the end of the term?

Luellen coughed into her handkerchief before entering the dining room to clear the dishes. A new boarder leaned against the archway separating the parlor from the dining area. “Looks like Ida Hawks got herself another charity case.”

She froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“I come through Allenwood every six months or so, and she’s always got someone . . . in your condition . . . staying here. When’d she take you in?” His narrow face and pointed nose made him look like an inquisitive ferret.

Luellen stared him down. “I’ve been here six weeks. Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m a student at the Normal School and will be going home after exams.”

“You’ve got a home to go to? That puts you ahead of most of ’em.” He straightened and took a step in her direction. “You ever get lonely, come upstairs. I’m in the second room past the landing.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Can’t get in any worse fix than you’re in now, eh?”

“Get out of my sight.” Her breath wheezed in her throat, and she fought down a cough. “If you come near me, I’ll call Mrs. Hawks.”

He sneered. “And what will she do? Throw me out? Not likely. She needs the money, or she wouldn’t be running a boardinghouse, now would she?” He sauntered through the parlor and headed for the stairs. “See you at breakfast.”

Hands shaking, Luellen stacked dirty plates. How dare he speak to her that way? With longing, she thought of her parents and home. Another few days and she could leave Allenwood. She prayed she wouldn’t see Ferret Man again. From now on, she’d make sure to stay out of sight until all the boarders left the room.

Back in the kitchen, she sank down at the table, overcome by a spasm of coughing. She was struggling to catch her breath when Mrs. Hawks descended the back stairs.

“You sound dreadful. Why don’t you go to bed and let me clean up?”

“It’s just a spring cold. The May weather’s been so changeable lately—I’m either chilled or too warm.” Luellen stood, fighting fatigue. “I have to study for final exams. Bedtime is a ways off.” She forced a smile.

Mrs. Hawks cocked her head. “Your cough sounds worse to me. Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”

“My father is a doctor. I’ll be home by Friday.” She took a deep breath, hoping the landlady couldn’t hear the rattle in her chest.

After a restless night, Luellen awakened and willed herself out of bed. Shivering, she hurried into her brown dress—the only one that still hung straight over her belly. Through the door she heard Mrs. Hawks moving about the kitchen. Had she overslept?

When Luellen walked into the next room, she felt as though she were wading through waist-deep water. Every step was an effort.

“There you are.” Mrs. Hawks beamed at her. “I let you sleep. That’s the best way to get over a cold.”

Prickles of alarm tingled along her body. “How late is it?”

“Not quite eight. Your breakfast is waiting in the warming oven.”

“Eight! I have to leave. Now. Examinations begin at eight thirty. If I’m late, they won’t let me in.” Luellen fought dizziness. She had to get through this day. She lifted her jacket from a peg and reached for the door handle.

Mrs. Hawks hastened to her side. “Are you sure you’re up to the walk? Why don’t you wait for the omnibus?”

Through the strangling in her throat, she said, “No time. I’ll ride back, I promise.” Her voice sounded more like a wheeze than speech.

Leaving the landlady frowning in the doorway, Luellen set off down College Avenue. Just put one foot in front of the other, she told herself. She hadn’t traveled far when she had to stop while coughs racked her body. Pain shot across her lower abdomen. Cupping her hands under her belly, she pressed upward to relieve the spasm. How would she ever get through the exams? Her body felt like it belonged to someone else and her brain was coated with dust.

Luellen wished Mrs. Hale would close the window. A chilly draft blew across her table near the back of the crowded testing room. She knew better than to ask. After handing out the exam packets, the proctor acted as though Luellen were invisible, as did most of the other girls in the room. Belle sat at the table in front of her, but after initial greetings, students weren’t allowed to converse during the exam period.

She clenched her teeth to prevent their chattering and tried to focus on filling in countries on a blank European map. Exactly where did the empire of Austria end and the Ottoman Empire begin? She’d studied the atlas over and over, but now chasing the boundaries felt like grasping at fog. Her hand shook as she traced borders and identified nations. A glance at the clock told her there was an hour left in the exam period, and she had yet to tackle the section on algebra.

Luellen closed her eyes and rested her forehead in her hands.
So tired.
Could she get through another hour? Turning the page, she stared at a row of equations. The numbers blurred. She must have moaned, because Belle turned around, a worried expression on her face.

“Are you all right?” she mouthed.

“Miss Brownlee. Eyes front.” Mrs. Hale rapped on her desk for emphasis.

By force of will, Luellen lifted her pencil and tackled the first problem. If she failed now, the entire year would be wasted. Each equation was a struggle through briars, and she knew she was guessing at answers. Halfway through the set, she heard the chapel bell toll three times. The examination was over, and she hadn’t finished.

Mrs. Hale strode to Luellen’s table and snatched her exam booklet. “You’ll be notified by post. No special treatment this time.” She spoke under her breath, a sneer on her lips.

Luellen nodded, afraid to speak for fear she’d start coughing again. As soon as all the booklets had been collected, Belle stood and hurried to her side.

“Let me help you back to Mrs. Hawks’s. You never should have come today—you’re terribly ill.”

“Had to. Everything I’ve done—” Luellen doubled over, her chest burning.

Belle slipped an arm around her back and helped her to her feet. “Can you get to the bench out front? We’ll wait there for the omnibus.”

Once they reached the boardinghouse, Mrs. Hawks brewed a pot of tea and sat at the table with them. Speaking to Belle as though Luellen wasn’t in the room, she said, “She’s going home tomorrow. I’m worried. I think she’s too ill to travel.”

Mrs. Hawks and Belle swam in a gray haze. “I have my ticket,” Luellen said, her voice raspy. “I want to go home.”

“And you shall.” Belle took her hand. “What time does the train leave?”

“Early. Seven.”

“I’ll be here—we’ll go together.”

Tears filled Luellen’s eyes. “I can’t ask you—” She coughed, heart pounding.

“You’re not asking. I’m telling.” Belle’s dimples appeared at the corners of her smile. “You rest now. I’ll be here to fetch you in the morning.”

As soon as Belle left, Mrs. Hawks bustled around the table. “Come, let me help you to bed.” She laid a hand on Luellen’s forehead. “You’re burning with fever. I pray this doesn’t harm the baby.”

Luellen wrapped her arms around her abdomen. “So do I.”

After the landlady left the bedroom, Luellen huddled under two blankets and a quilt, shivering. Points of light danced behind her eyes. When she took a breath, she heard rattles in her chest.

At some time during the evening, Mrs. Hawks came in carrying a bowl of broth and helped her spoon the steaming brew into her mouth. Once finished, Luellen fell back on the pillow.

“You sleep now,” Mrs. Hawks said. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to get ready to leave.”

“My trunk . . .”

“I’ll pack your things.”

“Thank you.” Luellen wasn’t sure whether she’d spoken aloud or not. She rolled onto her side and slept.

“Time to wake up, dear.”

Drenched in perspiration, Luellen attempted to focus on Mrs. Hawks’s face. “Is it morning already?”

“Miss Brownlee is here with a hired buggy.” She handed Luellen a cup of tea. “I added some honey—the sweetness will help your cough.” Stepping back, she asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”

“My chest hurts.” Luellen stood, placing the teacup on the washstand. Her haggard face reflected back at her in the mirror. Dark circles painted the area under her eyes and two bright dots of color highlighted each cheek. “Please tell Belle I’ll be dressed in a moment.” She splashed water into the basin.

As soon as Mrs. Hawks left, Luellen removed her nightgown, observing her swollen belly. “Not much longer,” she said to her baby. “We just have to get home.” A cough tore her throat.

“Luellen?” Belle called through the door.

“One moment. I’ll be right out.”

True to her word, Mrs. Hawks had packed the trunk, leaving a fresh shift and her traveling costume hanging in the wardrobe. Luellen folded her quilt and placed it atop her belongings, then fastened the hasp.

She entered the kitchen, resting a hand on the wall to keep her balance. “Thank you for coming, Belle. I don’t believe I could get through the trip by myself.”

“You’d do the same for me.” She held out her arm. “Are you ready?”

Luellen clung to her elbow and nodded.

“I’ll have the driver load your trunk.”

The trip to the station seemed to take only minutes. The train had already arrived and was taking on water and coal. Belle busied herself seeing to the luggage while Luellen rested on a bench. At the edge of the platform, a little girl stood next to her mother, tossing bread crumbs at rufous-striped sparrows. Luellen watched, thinking of the day she’d show her own child how to feed birds. She prayed she’d be able to manage school and a youngster as well as Alma did.

Belle interrupted her reverie. “Time to board. I’ve arranged seats for us.”

The conductor met them at the steps. “Right this way, ladies.” Once inside, she noticed Belle had chosen two facing seats and arranged a blanket and pillow on one of them.

Tipping his cap, the man said, “You let me know if you need anything. We should be at the relay station in time for noon dinner.”

Luellen nodded thanks and slipped into her seat, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. “You are such a thoughtful friend,” she said to Belle.

“Hush now. You’ll start coughing.” She fluffed the pillow and tucked it behind Luellen’s shoulders. “I brought a book. Would you like me to read aloud?”

“Please.” The train jerked into motion, gradually settling into a rhythmic clicking as the wheels rolled along the tracks.

On the facing seat, Belle reached into her satchel. “Have you read Mr. Hawthorne’s
The House of the Seven Gables
?”

“No. I read—” She struggled for breath. “
The Scarlet Letter.
Didn’t like it much.”

“This one’s supposed to be better.” Belle opened the cover. “Chapter one. ‘Halfway down a bystreet . . .’ ”

Luellen closed her eyes. Belle’s voice blended with the train sounds, then faded away.

Papa stood in the aisle, his face masked with fear. “Why didn’t you come home sooner?”

Was she dreaming?
“Papa?”

His arms went around her, helping her rise. “My little girl. Let’s get you home. Mama’s right outside.”

Supported by Belle and her father, Luellen descended the steps onto the platform in Beldon Grove. The sun dangled in the western sky, washing the town with the last rays of afternoon.