Heart of the Wilderness (23 page)

George busied himself about Maggie’s small home, fixing this and repairing that while Maggie and Kendra went out on shopping excursions. It wasn’t quite as bad as Kendra had feared. The sales clerks were most helpful, though Kendra did feel that they would gladly have helped her spend every cent she had. She would not let them pressure her, and when she decided that the purchases for her wardrobe were sufficient, she gently but firmly said no to further suggestions.

The sewing of garments was the next step. Maggie was a good seamstress, but because she was afraid she was not up on the latest styles, she took advantage of the help of a neighbor. Between the two of them, they presented Kendra with an adequate and attractive wardrobe.

Kendra spent days trying to adjust to the shoes. There were many times she wished to lean down, slip them from her aching feet, and retrieve her worn moccasins, but she did not allow herself the pleasure. She had to learn to wear them or be the laughingstock of the classroom.

Another adjustment came in changing her hairstyle. Kendra was used to wearing it in two long braids that hung down over her shoulders. If her task was such that she didn’t want the braids dangling in her way, she simply wound them around her head and pinned them securely.

But braids would not do on the university campus, however. Kendra knew that. But she wasn’t quite sure how her hair should be worn. Again the young neighbor came to her rescue. She set about trimming Kendra’s long blond locks.

“You have lovely hair,” she said over and over. “Such a beautiful color—and so shiny.”

Kendra had never given it much thought. It was just—hair. Different from the Indian neighbors, but hair nonetheless. Now she looked at it a bit more closely. It was a nice color. She was pleased about that.

“Now,” the neighbor woman went on to explain, “the younger women are wearing it a bit looser at the front—with soft waves. You have a real advantage there because yours is naturally wavy. You bring it back like this. Give it a twist, then wrap it like so. Then you bring this section over here, fold this back this way, bring this around, tuck this in, and put pins in like this.”

It looked so complicated. Kendra was sure she would never be able to do it. She regretted that she wouldn’t be able to just braid her hair the way she was used to.

George accompanied Kendra when she went to the school to enroll. She did not tell him, but it was the most frightening experience of her life. She wanted to cling to his hand, to plead with him to take her home again, but she did neither.

It was not a large school, but to Kendra the halls felt strange, the many unknown faces slightly threatening.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. Stop your trembling,” she chided herself over and over. But her heart pounded, her stomach hurt, and her hands shook anyway.

She was quizzed about her knowledge. That made her tremble even more, but the results seemed to satisfy the officials, for soon she found herself being handed the papers that told her when and where she would be expected to show up for her classes. She was in.

She decided to accept the gracious invitation and stay with Maggie. At least she could save herself one additional adjustment—and perhaps a few dollars as well. Besides, Maggie expressed a genuine desire to have her company, and George seemed most anxious that she agree to the arrangement.

George stayed on until she was settled into her new surroundings and schedule. Kendra knew he would need to leave soon to prepare for the winter trapping season. He knew it as well, but he seemed to hate the thought of leaving.

Along with Kendra, Maggie hated to see him go. “I didn’t realize how many little things needed fixing,” she told him. “Henry—Henry wasn’t able to care for such things his last years, and I didn’t know how to go about them. Seems one broken or worn-out thing just leads to another. It is so nice to have everything in good order again.”

“I was happy to do it,” replied George. “Gave me something to do while you ladies were shoppin’ and snippin’.”

Kendra laughed. She knew he would have been terribly bored if Maggie hadn’t found little chores for him around the house.

A full week of Kendra’s classes had passed before George announced that he would be returning to Bent River Crossing. Kendra was adjusting well, though she occasionally had moments of intense nervousness. She still often trembled as she thought of how much “catching up” she had to do in some of the subjects. But she was willing to work hard.

She hadn’t as yet made any new friendships, but she did have a few nodding acquaintances. In one class the teacher had singled her out for introduction to the entire class and asked her to share a bit about life in the wild. Kendra, blushing with embarrassment, had managed to give a brief report. It must have created interest, for after she was done a number of students had questions. She fared far better in giving direct and informative answers to the queries, and when she finally took her seat there was appreciative applause. Kendra felt that the students were friendly and open and that, given a bit of time, she would be able to make friends. She told her grandfather so and he seemed pleased.

“The belle of the classroom,” he beamed. “I knew you would be.”

“Oh, Papa Mac,” said Kendra, hanging her head, her cheeks flushing, “it’s not like that at all.”

“Well, it will be. Just you wait and see. It won’t take those teachers—or the other young people—long to see that you are a very special person.”

Kendra smiled in spite of herself.

And then her glance fell on her hands. She had soon realized that hers were the only rough and calloused hands among the school’s young women. Embarrassed, she wriggled uncomfortably on Maggie’s sofa and ended up with her hands tucked under her new gray wool skirt.

Chapter Nineteen

Stirrings

“How are your classes going?”

Kendra frowned at Maggie’s question. The classes, for the most part, seemed to be going just fine. Yet for some reason Kendra couldn’t explain, she felt she was not enjoying them as she had anticipated.

“Perhaps it’s just that I miss home and Papa Mac and Oscar so much,” she told herself night after night when she was tempted to cry silently into her pillow. “I will get used to the noise and commotion of the city. It will just take a while.”

But every day added to Kendra’s discontent.

Now as she hesitated, Maggie read in her eyes her secret yearnings.

“You miss home.” Maggie’s simple statement was filled with understanding. “Some of these adjustments are hard and they take time,” Maggie went on. “But it will come. You haven’t had time to make friends yet.”

Kendra wondered if time was the issue. Perhaps she just didn’t fit in. She had been raised so differently. She thought differently, liked different things. Even dressed differently in spite of the fact that she had tried so hard to imitate the other girls.

“I don’t know, Aunt Maggie,” she finally answered with a deep sigh. “I—I just feel that—that something is missing. I don’t quite fit. I’m like—like a hawk trying to swim. I just don’t understand some of the ideas. I—”

“But you will,” said Maggie with complete confidence. “It takes time.”

Kendra thought for a while. Perhaps her problem was that she really didn’t
want
to be like the others. They all seemed so—so patterned. So programmed. If one said something was so, all the others agreed. Did she really want to be like that? She wasn’t sure. Perhaps that was her problem. Maybe she just wasn’t open to change.

“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “I think it might just be me.”

“Nonsense,” said Maggie, rising from her chair to bring the apple cobbler. “Don’t rush yourself.” As though still carrying on the same subject, she added, “I had a letter from your grandfather today.”

Kendra lifted her head. She’d already had three letters from her grandfather in spite of the inadequate mail service. Two of them had arrived together. Every letter made Kendra so lonesome she wondered if they brought pleasure or added to her misery.

“How is he?” she asked quickly.

“Oh, he’s fine. Just fine. He’s missing you awfully though. Says that Oscar still sits and whines.”

It was almost more than Kendra could bear. She clenched together the hands that lay in her lap and willed tears out of her eyes.

“He says they’ve already had some snow,” Maggie continued, unaware of Kendra’s struggle as she cut the cobbler. “Not too cold yet. Just a flurry. He doesn’t think it will stay.”

“No,” Kendra murmured. “It likely won’t stay. We get those storms that move through and it always gets nice again.”

“Says Nonie’s doing well,” Maggie added. “He was over to take her some wood the day he wrote. He knew you’d be wondering about Nonie, so he said for me to be sure to tell you.”

Kendra longed to see Nonie. The Indian woman had been like a grandmother to her in many ways. Kendra did not know what she would have done without Nonie in those early years.

“Nonie had a flying squirrel drop down her chimney and scatter fireplace ashes and soot all over the place. Luckily the fire had died out and the squirrel didn’t suffer none from the fracas. But Nonie sure had a mess to clean up.”

Kendra couldn’t help but smile. It must have been quite a shock for the squirrel. She could picture the little creature being greeted with a loud shrieking, “Aiyee! Aiyee!” It must have been frightened half to death.

“Not much other news, I guess. He was just wondering how we are getting on.”

Kendra accepted the dish of apple cobbler. Maggie was a good cook. Kendra was enjoying all sorts of new and delicious food. But tonight she didn’t feel much like eating.

“Miss Marty. May I walk with you?”

Kendra looked up to find a tall young man standing beside her, books tucked under his arm just as she did. Kendra had noticed the young man before. He sat just behind her and to her left in English Literature class. Other students shifted from one seat to another, but this young gentleman, like Kendra herself, always got to class early and always chose the same seat.

Kendra nodded and resumed her steps. They didn’t have much time between classes.