Mother Lode (26 page)

“Don’t prevaricate with me!”

Her shrill voice brought him back.

“I told her once about making sacrifices.”
He saw his mother’s face flush. “I explained that it builds a
strong bond between us.”

The words turned to ash in his mouth.

“I see.” She fairly
hissed. “And did you fail to remember that all of these things are
to be discussed solely between you and me? What you have done is
pernicious, baneful. You have defiled our
Golden Bubble
!”

He could feel the heat crawl up his
neck.

He could see her trying to contain her
anger. “Go to bed, Jorie. Just go to bed.”

The letter asking for an appointment had
reached the Superintendent, and he had replied that he’d be happy
to meet Mrs. Radcliff Monday next at ten o’clock. On the appointed
day, Catherine arrived at his office fifteen minutes early. Dressed
in an attractive but modest navy blue suit and wearing no make-up,
she thought she looked appropriate for the occasion. She sat in the
corridor eagerly awaiting the interview, the letter in her
hand.

With the certainty of one who knows the
correctness of their mission, she had no cause for apprehension.
Besides, she knew by his name this Mr. Ferguson was a Scot, like
herself. Finally, the door to the inner office opened, and she was
invited in. A rather small man, Catherine noted, remembering with
satisfaction that small men are seldom very sure of themselves.

After introductions, she inquired if he knew
which clan his people belonged to. He brightened, and she explained
that she too, was a Scot, her maiden name being MacGaurin.

He shook her hand heartily, and for a few
moments they exchanged stories about the old country, Mr. Ferguson
explaining apologetically, that he had never actually been there,
his knowledge coming strictly from his forebears.

With the bond of common heritage
established, Catherine launched her mission.

“I would like to talk to you about my son’s
teacher, Miss Caroline O’Dell.”

“Oh, yes, our new teacher—very
dedicated.”

“Verisimilitude.” Catherine raised her
eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“Dedication is the face she would have you
see. However, Miss O’Dell oversteps her role as teacher in the
following several ways.” She handed the letter to Mr. Ferguson.

As Mr. Ferguson read the list of grievances,
Catherine recited them.

“She keeps my Jorie after school to help her
with her chores so they can walk home together like school chums.
She shares intimate details of her life with him, such as her
broken engagement, and how if she married, she wouldn’t be allowed
to teach.”

Catherine could see the color rise around
Mr. Ferguson’s collar.

“Your son told you this?”

“He did. He is very open with me. In
addition, she inquires into Jorie’s home life, prying out of him
the most intimate details of our family. I find these conversations
totally inappropriate.”

“An example, if you please, Mrs.
Radcliff.”

“She demands to know the exact nature of
discipline which he receives at home. This is none of her concern,
Mr. Ferguson.”

The superintendent gave a noncommittal
nod.

“She treats him differently than other
students — he’s clearly her pet. And she encourages him to covet
that which is unobtainable.”

“And what is that?”

“She has whetted his appetite for the
University of Michigan. I cannot afford to send my son so far from
home for his advanced studies. We have a perfectly good college
here in Houghton, and he can board at home.”

“You refer to The Mining School.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps she thought your son’s interests
lay elsewhere.”

“Indeed! But the curriculum is very broad
here, I’m told. This arena too, is out of her domain.” Catherine
took a deep breath and reined in her emotions. “In summary, Mr.
Ferguson, Miss O’Dell’s behavior is totally improper.”

“Well, I shall have a talk with her.”

“Mr. Ferguson, it is not
a
talk
that I am
after. These are grievous charges against her character. When you
read my letter, you will see that I do not believe she should be
allowed to continue influencing the minds of our young people. I am
asking that she be discharged immediately!”

“I understand your position, Mrs. Radcliff.
I will bring your letter to the attention of the school board,
which meets next Thursday. It will be up to them to make a decision
in this matter.”

“But they will act on your recommendation,
will they not?”

“It is no easy task to find competent
teachers willing to brave northern Michigan’s winters. Especially
on short notice.”

“Nevertheless, these are serious charges,
which cannot go unattended.”

“I will make sure the board understands your
grievances.” Mr. Ferguson rose.

Catherine put one last effort into her
farewell, giving Mr. Ferguson her most captivating smile.

“I’m sure you’ll do everything possible to
persuade them to our way of thinking.”

Miss O’Dell had not looked happy all day.
She never smiled at him once, and after school she went straight to
grading the math papers.

“Miss O’Dell, is something wrong?” Jorie
asked.

“I think you’d best run along home.”

“But I’d be happy to sweep the floor before
I go.”

“That won’t be necessary, Jorie.”

The teacher continued to study the papers
she was grading and didn’t look up.

“Did I do something wrong, Miss?” he
ventured.

Finally she put down her red pencil and
looked into Jorie’s puzzled face.

“Has your mother said nothing to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It is not my place to discuss this with
you. You’d best ask your mother.”

“About what?”

“That’s all I can say. Run along, Jorie.”
She picked up her red pencil and began making check marks
again.

Jorie ran all the way home, flew in the
door, and confronted his mother. “What did you say to Miss
O'Dell?”

“Close the door and hang up your wraps. Then
you may speak to me courteously.”

When he was seated he asked again.

“I said nothing to Miss O'Dell. I spoke with
Mr. Ferguson, the superintendent of schools.”

Jorie paled. “Why?”

“Because your teacher’s behavior is totally
inappropriate and I have asked for her removal.”

“You’re trying to get her fired?”

“If that’s the word you choose to use.”

“It’s not fair! She’s the best teacher I
ever had!”

“I can’t agree with you. She’s a meddler,
Jorie.”

“I like her! She’s my friend.”

“That is part of the problem. She is
supposed to be your teacher, not your chum. The two don’t mix.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I have said all I have to say. We will know
in a few days whether the school board will take action to dismiss
her.”

Jorie was miserable. After school the next
day he tried to apologize to Miss O'Dell for getting her into
trouble.

“It’s not your fault, Jorie. You mustn’t
blame yourself.”

He bit his lip to stop the quivering.

“Whether or not I’m dismissed, we cannot
continue our private talks. You do see that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He knew his chin was quivering. “No,
I wouldn’t want to get you into more trouble.”

He started to leave. “Just to say, ma’am,
you’re the best teacher I ever had, and I’m awfully grateful for
everything you’ve done for me. Whatever happens, I’ll never forget
you.”

He rushed out the door, unable to hold the
tears back any longer.

He thrashed in his bed at
night, going over and over the way he’d contributed to the jam Miss
O'Dell was in now. He’d told Ma everything, well almost. She’d said
he had to — it was part of the covenant they had. Well, damn
the
Golden Bubble
. He was sorry he hadn’t been loyal to Miss
O'Dell.

He prayed hard for three days that they
wouldn’t let her go. There’d be an awful hole in his life even if
they let her stay, but he’d feel worse if she couldn’t keep her
job.

On Friday morning, after sleeping little the
night before, he approached her before the others came in.

“I can’t help it, Miss O'Dell, but I have to
know. Does your being here mean they didn’t let you go?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know yet. I
expect to hear sometime today. And even if they decide to let me
go, they may want me to stay until they find a replacement.”

About mid-morning someone came into the
classroom and handed Miss O'Dell a letter. She looked nervous, but
laid it aside. At lunchtime, while the others were eating she
opened it.

Jorie watched her carefully. When she’d
finished, she cast her eyes toward him. He thought she smiled, but
he wasn’t sure what it meant. He dare not ask her again.

During math in the afternoon his attention
wandered. Suddenly he heard her say to the class, “In the spring I
will teach you more about geometry. But for now, that’s all.”

He jerked up and caught her eye. He was
certain the remark was made to set his mind at ease. So she hadn’t
been fired! He wanted to jump up in his seat.

“Well, I’m sure it’s only because they
couldn’t find a replacement for her,” his mother said later.

He didn’t care what the reason was. He’d won
one victory over his mother.

Still, he was very downhearted. He imagined
he felt like someone who’d lost their sweetheart. She wasn’t that
much older than he. How humiliating it must have been for her to
face the school board. How awful, in her first year, to be made to
feel as though she’d done such wrong. He imagined her as very
lonely, with no one to befriend her at all.

He tried to be as cheerful as he could in
class to buck up her spirits, and they still had little talks as
she made her rounds among the students. She’d quiz him on material
she’d assigned and give him ideas for further study. She was always
pleasant and he was grateful for her smiles.

But the special after school times were gone
forever.

In the early spring there was an outbreak of
scarlet fever in town, and three of Miss O'Dell’s students came
down with it.

“Jorie, I’m taking you out of school for the
remainder of the term,” his mother said. “It’s not worth the risk.
I will tutor you at home in those subjects — “

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and I have.”

“I’m going to speak to Pa.”

“Your father supports my decision.”

Jorie stewed all evening, and by bedtime had
made up his mind. In the morning he was dressed and out of the
house before his mother was down. In the dim light he walked to
school and waited in the cold, sunless morn for Miss O'Dell to come
and unlock the schoolhouse.

When at last she did, he followed her
inside.

“Jorie, what are you doing here?”

“I’m not dropping out, Miss O'Dell; I’m
going to stay the course.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you. I have a letter
from your mother.”

Jorie’s heart sank.

“I cannot disregard it. It’s a parent’s
prerogative, in cases like this. Surely you understand.”

Jorie felt angry and miserable, but he
managed to say, “I wouldn’t want to get you in any more
trouble.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait,” she called. He watched as she
carefully chose a number of books. “Take these with you. I know
you’ll put them to good use.”

He managed to say, ‘Thank you.’

Their eyes locked for a moment; then he
turned and walked away.

He had lost the battle, after all. Ma knew
that in the fall Miss O'Dell wouldn’t be his teacher. For his last
two years, he’d have Mr. Smythe.

Catherine tutored him in
French and Literature, while Pa instructed him in geology. Jorie
remained distant with his mother, and Catherine wrote in her
diary:
He’ll get over it. Puppy love. And
he should thank me for saving his life — he’d be the first to
succumb, so prone to illness he is.

But when weeks passed, and he still had
little appetite for conversation, she became concerned. He spent
long hours in his room alone with his books or his writing.

A month later when Dr. Johnson came,
Catherine said, “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your
company, Arthur?”

“I’ve come to see the boy.”

“I’m not sick, Doc,” Jorie said.

“Thank God, for that.”

They went in the parlor, and the doctor
showed him the books he’d brought.

Jorie was delighted. “Look
at this one —
The Origin of the
Species
by Charles Darwin.”

“I think you’ll enjoy that.”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

Arthur started making it a practice to stop
by once a week to talk to the boy, and bring him books.

From down the hall Catherine could hear
little Eliza crying. She lay in bed luxuriating in the knowledge
she didn’t have to get up. Thank God for Helena. Catherine had
discovered she didn't have the enthusiasm or energy she thought
she'd have for a baby. Well, the child was here now, and Helena
seemed to derive great pleasure in caring for her.

In a moment, she could hear Helena cooing to
the baby, and the crying stopped. Catherine stretched, feeling the
sinewy tightness of her thighs as she did so. Her hands found her
buttocks and realized they were tight and shapely too. At
thirty-two, she was still in fine shape. And her face had not
suffered the ravages of time that many her age had. She’d always
been careful to wear a sunbonnet when in the garden.

Her mind turned to thoughts about Jorie that
had been troubling her. He’d been so difficult to reach since she’d
taken him out of school. She realized she was paying a heavy price
for the course she’d taken.