Return to Harmony (14 page)

Bethan sat in the empty church, not wanting the quiet moment to end. Not just yet. She watched the dust motes dance in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall side windows and felt so incredibly fortunate. A strange thing to be thinking, she knew, when she lay awake for hours each night worrying. But it was true.

Finally she sighed and released the moment by rising to her feet.

As she walked down the silent aisle, she felt yet again how blessed she was to have Jesus to turn to when times were bad.

She pushed through the church doors and spotted Jodie seated on the bench across the street. She walked over and sat down. A giant magnolia spread sweet-scented shade above the two girls, fresh as the spring in white dresses.

Jodie watched a great gleaming car purr by. To have something to say, Bethan asked, “What kind was that?”

“A Packard.”

“I never can get all the different kinds straight in my head.”

Some people would have thought it strange, how Jodie knew every make and model of automobile on the road. Bethan knew it was not the cars which attracted her but rather the freedom they represented. Bethan hesitated a moment, then asked because her heart would not let her keep still, “Do you think maybe tomorrow you might come in with me and pray for—”

“I thought you understood. I really don’t want to talk about it,” Jodie said, her voice calm yet utterly firm. “Not ever again.”

Bethan nodded sorrowful acquiescence. Almost a year had passed since their journey to Raleigh, and still the only time Jodie ever set foot in church was when her father felt up to going. If he was having one of his “bad spells,” Jodie would still dress up on Sunday mornings, then simply walk the streets until it was time to come home. She refused to discuss her feelings, refused to even let the subject be broached.

And yet for the three weeks since Dylan had received his call-up notice, Jodie had accompanied Bethan each afternoon to the church and waited outside while she went in to pray for her brother’s safety. Jodie had been there and held Bethan when she had cried herself empty the day Dylan had left, listened to her choked voice pray that God would keep her brother safe and bring him back with his smile intact. Jodie had sat there and patted Bethan’s shoulder and seen her through, as she had every day since then.

Bethan sat beside her best friend and sent another silent prayer lofting upward that the Lord would find a way to open Jodie’s heart to Him again. And do it soon.

“The newspapers are growing more positive every day,” Jodie told her. “A delegation has been sent to Berlin and was received by the Kaiser’s representatives.”

“Really?”

Jodie nodded. “There was an article this morning that predicted the Armistice would be signed before long.”

Bethan’s heart soared. She did not understand exactly what Jodie was saying, but she knew her friend read the papers as hungrily as she did almost every book within reach. “So they might be sending Dylan home?”

Jodie smiled, and that simple gesture was a remarkable symbol of her flourishing maturity. “I would imagine there will be a lot of work to be done once the war is over. But at least he will be saved from having to face combat.”

“Oh, thank God,” Bethan breathed, clasping her hands together.

Jodie rose to her feet. “I have to be going.”

“Back to the apothecary?”

“No, Miss Charles asked me to come by this afternoon. Want to walk with me back to school?”

“Sure.” With any other student, such a summons would have been cause for anguish. But with Jodie so far ahead of everyone else in the school, the teacher’s request had to mean something different.

They stopped to pick flowers for their hair. It was a daily habit now, and had been for weeks, ever since Jodie had read about it in the
Saturday Evening Post
magazine. She had shown it to Bethan, a color drawing of a beautiful Parisian lady, out for a stroll on a busy tree-lined street. And the caption read, “The perfect accompaniment to a lovely lady’s wardrobe—the freshness of a springtime blossom in her locks.” Jodie had stared at it so hard and so long that Bethan wondered if perhaps her friend was seeing something that she did not.

There was no need to take flowers from gardens. Harmony’s streets were lined with blossoms and flowering trees. Veils of honeysuckle were traded for tulip poplar blossoms, and they for dogwood. Brilliant purple flowers from crepe myrtle trees seemed to make Jodie’s eyes darker than they already were. Sprigs of cherry blooms were Bethan’s favorite, with their fragrance so light it appeared almost shy, as though her own spirit had found a home in something as beautiful as this flower.

Jodie pulled off a magnolia blossom as big as a pie plate. When she put it in her hair the hand-size petals covered her face from forehead to chin, and they laughed so hard they had to sit down. Bethan loved to watch Jodie laugh, and to laugh with her. It did not happen very often anymore, not even in the games of imagination Jodie made up herself. Jodie rose to her feet once more and danced from tree to tree, pulling blooms off in frantic haste, tossing one away to make room for the next, as though one of them might prove to hold some magic strong enough to turn her wishes to reality and fly her off to a fancy Paris street. A place where lovely ladies wore long flowing dresses with tight waists and colorful scarves over their powdered shoulders, and flowers were bought from smiling old women in flower stalls, rather than picked from trees, just like Jodie read about in the magazine.

Bethan shivered when Jodie talked like that, trying to push such dreams away, and with them the fear that her friend would truly fly away. Bethan never wanted to live anywhere but Harmony. In truth, she did not much care for these fantasies of Jodie’s, with their visions of being somewhere else, of travel and adventure and a life of accomplishment. But she could never refuse her friend such games. The yearning and the hunger in Jodie’s heart was so strong it burned like fire in her eyes. No, Bethan loved this unusual young woman far too much to refuse her a chance to dream her dreams with another, even if they did hurt and frighten her so. When Bethan caught sight of that determined flame burnishing Jodie’s dark gaze, or heard the brilliant intelligence of her thoughts, she wondered if Jodie had in truth ever really been a child at all.

The flowers in Bethan’s hair were in sharp contrast with her sober thoughts as she slowly made her way home after saying goodbye to Jodie at the school.

Jodie entered the school building with a sense of dread. She was fairly certain she knew why Miss Charles wanted to see her, and it was the last news in the world she wanted to hear. The very last.

The evening before when she had been making a delivery for her father, she had seen Miss Charles coming out of the train station. She had returned home, her heart a hollow gourd. If Miss Charles left Harmony, there would be one less person with whom she could really talk. But Miss Charles was going to leave. Why would she stay? She did not have family here. There was nothing tying her down. She could go anywhere she liked. Jodie knew if she were Miss Charles, she would be on the next train out. But the very thought of Miss Charles going had left Jodie with legs encased in lead, her feet dragging sadly in the dust.

Jodie now walked down the silent hall, stopped in front of her classroom, and knocked on the closed door. When a muffled voice answered, she opened it and said, “Miss Charles?”

“Oh, good, it’s you. Come in.”

She entered the classroom and glanced around. It was empty save for them.

Miss Charles rose from her desk with a bright smile of welcome.

She wore an appealing dress of pink and white, and with her coppery hair and touch of rouge on her cheeks, she looked like one of the Parisian ladies in the magazine. A happy one. “Go sit down in that chair next to my desk. I will be right back.” She left, closing the door after her.

Jodie walked over and seated herself. The air smelled of chalk and heat. The silence seemed strange, as though uncomfortable after the noise and energy of the now-departed students. Through the open window came the sound of children filled with spring fever.

“My goodness, these are heavier than I thought.” Miss Charles came into the room, her arms wrapped around a wooden crate. She shouldered the door closed, walked over, and put down her package. She looked at Jodie, her eyes dancing with excitement. “I have a surprise for you.”

Jodie gaped at the teacher. “For me?”

Miss Charles nodded and reached for the scissors. She began cutting away the binder twine. “One of my closest friends from school is now assistant librarian at State College. I had her send these to me. They arrived by train yesterday evening.”

That explained why she had seen Miss Charles at the railway station. Jodie felt a great burden lift from her shoulders. Miss Charles wasn’t leaving after all. “What is it?”

“Something to occupy you this summer. You have just one year left here, and I assume you still want to go to college.”

Jodie nodded slowly. “But my daddy is against it. He says I should stay here and take over the shop. He says I don’t need college to do that.”

Miss Charles stopped and asked gravely, “Has he forbidden it?”

“No. He wouldn’t do that. At least, I don’t think he would.” Jodie hesitated. “Daddy doesn’t have the strength these days to be that definite about anything,” she said candidly. “He’s just told me he doesn’t like the idea and won’t help me with the cost.”

“Well, I suppose we should be thankful for small blessings,” Miss Charles said. She pulled open the top and pulled out a very large book. She handed it to Jodie with a smile. “Besides feeding that voracious mental appetite of yours, we will now need to prepare you for the scholarship panel.”

The book weighed heavily on her lap. Jodie read the title aloud, “ ‘Introduction to the Natural Sciences.’ ” She looked up at Miss Charles. “You did this for me?”

“Jodie, I am going to treat you as an adult and speak with you plainly.” Miss Charles seated herself, reached over, and took one of Jodie’s hands. “You have a remarkable mind. More than that. You have a gift for learning. Call me selfish, if you will. But I want to be a part of this, to help you find your wings and begin your soaring flight.”

Jodie looked down at the book in her lap, but the cover was now so blurred she could not read the words. She whispered, “Thank you, Miss Charles.”

Politely taking no notice of Jodie’s emotion, she rose to her feet and began taking the books out one by one. “There also are some very fine novels here—oh, good, she remembered to send the book on biology as well. I imagine that might slow down even you for a while.”

Jodie sat and watched the pile of books beside her grow ever higher. She felt suspended in space, unable to take in what was actually happening.

“I would suggest that we meet once a week and discuss whatever you wish.” Miss Charles smiled down at her. “I cannot promise that I shall be able to answer your questions, or even keep up with you once you really get started. But if I cannot give you the answer myself, I promise that I will try and find someone who can. Is that all right?”

Jodie had to make do with a nod, unable to grasp the concept of having a question that Miss Charles might not be able to answer.

“And you must feel free to ask me anything that comes to mind. Anything at all.” The teacher sobered momentarily. “But I think it would be wise if we kept our discussions to ourselves, Jodie. You must tell your father, of course. But no one else. I must always be seen as impartial within the classroom, showing no favorites.”

Jodie started to agree, then hesitated. “Can I please tell Bethan? She won’t tell anyone. She’s my very best friend.”

TEN

CHASED BY A BLUSTERY
December wind, Jodie hurried back from school. It was remarkable how the weather had changed so suddenly. Only the week before it had seemed as though Indian Summer would remain with them until Christmas. This morning, however, dark winter clouds had cast a sullen blanket over the sky, and the wind had turned bitter. She stepped into the apothecary and blew upon her hands. Then she heard the discussion.