September Wind (4 page)

He turned a stubborn chin for a glance, and then dropped the list onto the table and stomped through the veranda and outside.

              She exchanged a smile with Miss O’Reilly.

             
Miss O’Reilly went to stand beside Emily, placing an arm around her shoulder. “You’re all set now,” she said, bending to give her a hug. “And please, don’t be afraid to let us know if there’re any problems.”

             
“
I won’t.”

             
Emily stood at the kitchen window and watched Miss O’Reilly disappear up the road. She could still feel her arm around her shoulder. It had been a long while since something like that happened. The last time was after her grandmother died and Aunt Francine stood with her at the graveside and slipped a hand on her shoulder.

             
For the rest of the summer she dreamed about what it would be like on the first day of school. She tried not to think of the tales her uncles spoke of from days gone by. Like the time Timothy pulled the screws out of the door hinge. When the teacher tried the door, it fell on her. That’s when she learned that a paddle waited for such ill deeds.

             
With less than a week to go, she stopped in to see her aunt, and then walked to the schoolhouse to see how long
it would take her to make the trip. She’d only seen the schoolhouse from afar whenever she rode into Watseka with Steven. Once she got there, she yearned to take a ride on one of the swings, but she hadn’t realized just how far the building was from the main road. By the time she got back to the farm, it was past lunchtime and the men had already come home to eat.

             
Her two uncles were coming down the steps eating sandwiches when she walked up. “You’re late,” Steven said, letting her pass.

             
She hurried inside, hoping grandfather had eaten and left.

             
“
Where’ve you been?” he growled the minute she walked in. He looked out of place making a sandwich.

             
“
I’ll do that,” she said rushing over. She took the bread out of his hands, and he went to sit at the table.

             
“
If you think going to school’s gonna change things around here, you’d better think again.”

             
“
No, I don’t. I–I don’t. I was over at Aunt Francine’s, and I walked to the schoolhouse to see how long it would take me. I wanted to know what time I’d have to be up.”

             
“
Before dawn, I’m sure. And stay away from Francine’s.”

             
“
What? I don’t go over that much.”

             
“
How many times have I said that Sundays are enough? I let you go one time and you start marching over whenever you please.”

             
“
But Grandfather...”

             
“
Sundays, and that’s final!”

             
He sat stone-faced as she made his roast beef sandwich and filled a bowl with the soup she had prepared that morning.

             
She didn’t mind that Grandfather liked everything just so. Even the yard had to be perfect. If he walked into the barn, or the tool shed, and something was out of place, he would throw a fit. Yet, he seldom noticed if she did something extra, like paint a picture to hang on the wall, or fix her hair differently. Recently she started wearing it in a ponytail. Sometimes she walked so it would swing. She made ribbons to put in her hair, but even the brightest prints and colors didn’t make him notice her. She thought of telling him that every so often she wore one of her mother’s ribbons.

             
Aunt Francine wasn’t the most pleasant person to visit, but sometimes she even noticed something different. Like just that very morning.

             
“
Your knees are beginning to look knobby, Emily. You ever notice how bony chicken legs are? Well that’s what yours’ll look like soon enough if you don’t put some meat on.”

             
Aunt Francine had been in good spirits, considering her usual moods. She was acting a little odd, though, but still with just a smidgen of sparkle in her eyes. Sometimes she surprised her like that. Emily stopped on the way out the door that morning, sensing something about her aunt’s mood she couldn’t quite place. Though she realized at the same time she felt it before. Hmm, whatever it was, she thought as she closed the door, it didn’t matter now that she was going to school. She couldn’t believe it was actually about to happen. It became even more real later that day when her aunt walked over to lay into her brother.

             
“
You’re a damn fool sometimes, Rupert. And you’d better stop being so ornery about Emily going to school. It’s time you resign yourself to the idea.”

CHAPTER TWO

If Grandfather really resigned himself to the idea of Emily going to school, he certainly had an odd way of showing it. He hadn’t said a word at breakfast, although when everyone else left, he lingered in the doorway. Emily was at the sink when she heard him shuffle around to face her.
              “Mark my word, young lady. If you fall behind in your chores... dang it, I’ll sure as hell find a way to take you out of school.”

             
She wasn’t so sure he could do that. But she worked tirelessly anyway for a week and a half catching up on the washing and ironing. She planned meals and prepared some ahead of time just like her grandmother used to before heading into town for the day.

             
When Steven brought her school supplies home, she carefully lined them up on her dresser. Several times a day, she would check on them, usually move them around as if they were pieces of gold.

             
If she found herself getting nervous about going off on her own for the first time in her life, she reminded herself that Miss O’Reilly would be there. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be around other children. The most delightful thought formed into an image of a girl who would be her best friend. She would have long blonde pigtails like her mother used to have, pretty ribbons, flowery dresses, and a pleasant laugh like her grandmother’s. They would be inseparable. She would invite her over and they would talk and giggle late into the night. These thoughts consumed her and made it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

When the big day arrived, she arose hours before dawn. She opened a window and knelt as she looked at the stars and thanked God for the special day. Then she made her bed, laid out her clothes and supplies, and hurried downstairs.

              It was Timothy’s turn to milk, and her responsibility to feed the animals, and gather eggs. She flew through her chores and headed back across the yard with a pail of milk in one hand, while balancing a heaping basket of eggs in the other.

             
Breakfast was on the table when the men came in, and after pouring them each a cup of fresh coffee, she headed upstairs to dress for school. Twenty minutes later, she came back down, toting her supplies in a gunnysack.

“
Well, I’m ready for my first day of school.” She placed the bag on a stool then smoothed out her calf-length, blue-and-white checkered dress with pockets and trim around the hem. “Aunt Francine and I made it a little big so’s I could grow into it.” Placing her hands in each pocket, she felt the acorns she was going to scatter out past the playground. She’d noticed there weren’t any trees around. That meant no squirrels to mess with them before they took root.

             
Steven nodded an approval of her dress.

             
Grandfather grunted, shoving his cup across the table. She filled it with coffee then pulled up a chair.

“Miss O’Reilly said I’d be able to bring plenty of books home. Of course I can’t keep them like the one she gave me.” Emily didn’t mind that they weren’t really listening. She didn’t expect them to be excited when they weren’t the ones going on this adventure. She wondered if they would notice if she snuck some wood to build herself another bookshelf for her bedroom.

              After the men left, she cleaned the kitchen and made lunches. She stored theirs in the refrigerator, wrapped hers in a towel and placed it inside the gunnysack on top of her school supplies. Then she made the beds, and tossed the towels and dirty cloths into the second-hand washing machine.

             
Keeping up the laundry had been a grueling task not that long ago until Steven exchanged work with a
neighbor
for a Maytag with a power wringer. She used to dread going out to the veranda to wash clothes in those ugly green bins. The coldest months were the worst, when it was impossible to keep the room warm with all the windows that lined the front, and with no insulation. She would never forget the day the men rigged up the washer at the back entryway that was so small they had to close up the door. The setup was well worth the fuss even though she had to go all the way around out through the front door during the summer months to hang clothes in the back yard. Steven made a rack for the winter months, which was much better than stringing a line across the kitchen.

             
When everything was in order, she picked up the gunnysack and headed out the door.

In less than an hour, she reached the white schoolhouse with its windows running up the side, and the long wooden porch in front. A row of swings stood to the left of the building. Further down, scattered across the back, was a slide and other equipment she couldn’t name. To the right of that was a basketball court.

              She walked up to the top step and sat watching a number of children arrive carrying paper bags, or tin buckets, and some with notebooks tucked under an arm. When a car approached, she squinted and fixed her eyes intently to see if it was Miss O’Reilly. It was a black car, but the woman who got out wore dark-rimmed glasses and had brown hair rolled into tight curls.

             
“I’ll bet you’re Emily, the new girl,” the woman said as she came up the steps. “I’m Miss Tucker.”

Emily stood and gathered her gunnysack in her arms. “Is the other teacher on her way?”

“You mean Miss O’Reilly, the young lady from the school board? She doesn’t teach here. She helps out in Watseka now and then, but she’s from Chicago. And no, she won’t be here.”

             
“
Oh,” was all Emily could manage.

             
Miss Tucker put a hand on her shoulder then went to unlock the door, holding it open.

             
“
I’ll wait out here,” Emily said. She stepped onto the porch as a group of children filed by and went inside.

             
A car stopped in front, and two girls hopped out and came up the steps. Emily smiled at the one with big blue eyes and shiny ringlets the color of maple syrup. The girl next to her, wearing a large pink bow at the crown, screwed up her mouth and nudged her friend.

             
“
Look, she’s got a potato sack.” They set their eyes on her bag, giggling as if she had dropped it in cow poop.

             
One of the older boys who had gone in earlier came back out and blew a whistle.

             
Emily cradled her bag closer, waiting for everyone to pass before going inside.

             
“
Children,” the teacher said, “find yourselves a desk. You can sit where you want today. I’ll separate you into classes at the end of the week.”

             
Emily was about to take a seat in the front row, when the girl with the large pink bow cut her off.

             
“
Connie,” the teacher said. “We know you and Sally are both in the fifth grade, so why don’t you two go on to the back.”

             
Connie lifted her chin, which still only put her eye-to-nose with Emily, gave a haughty “
humph”
and then marched off to the back.

             
Emily sat and watched more of her classmates wander in. She perked up when she saw an Indian girl named Haity who had been at the farm two summers ago. They had played up in the tree house while Haity’s father did business with the men.

Haity headed straight for Emily. “Hey, I remember you.”

              “
You’ve grown,” Emily said, meaning up. Although it was obvious that she had not only grown up, but sideways too.

             
Haity squeezed into the seat next to her. “It’s nice to see you.”

             
Emily glanced around to the back row. “Not as glad as I am to see you.” She pulled herself up in her seat, smiling, certain she had found her friend.

             
A couple of girls joined Connie and Sally in back. They huddled together, whispered, and giggled as they turned their eyes up front.

             
“
They always cackle like that?” Emily asked.

             
Haity looked back and pinched her eyes into slits. “They’re all snobs. I hate their guts. You Indian?” she asked, giving Emily a closer look. “They don’t care much for Indians. ’Course they might hate you ’cause you’re prettier than all of them put together.”

             
Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It made her insides grow warm with pleasure.

When a few stragglers filed in and took the last of the seats, a couple of them smiled at Emily. This gave her the impression that, aside from the group of hens in back, things were looking up. Then a group of boys sitting next to them began to joke around. One of them whispered a little too loud. “Fatty, fatty two-by-four.”

Haity’s dark face turned red and her eyes widened. She pulled herself out of her seat and marched over to the boy. Grabbing a chunk of his hair, she slammed his head on the desk. There were howls of laughter as the boy sank down in his seat, rubbing his head.

             
Haity wiggled back into her chair, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I’m sure glad you’re here, Emily.”

             
At recess, the teacher asked Haity to stay seated.

Emily hesitated, but when the teacher nodded toward the door, she decided she’d use the time to plant the acorns. She went out past the playground, kicked up some dirt with the toe of her shoe, and laid them down. Just a fine layer of dirt over top, and then she headed for the swings and pumped herself up as high as safety allowed.

              Her stomach lifted into her chest as she careened up through the air. She was in a state of breathless exhilaration, pretending if she let go she would fly to the stars or maybe right into the sunset. She became so carried away she didn’t hear the whistle and suddenly found herself alone.

             
Mortified, she turned to see through the windows that everyone was already seated inside. All eyes were on her. Miss Tucker came to the window and waved her in.

             
Emily tried to ignore the taunts as she walked in, but when she caught the look on Haity’s face, a rush of willful defiance made her almost giddy. “I was stuck up there waiting for two rabid coyotes to leave,” she said, making her voice shiver along with her shoulders.

             
A number of the girls squealed, others wondered how they’d ever get home. One of the boys pulled out a slingshot and a rock, and aimed it at the window. “I’m not afraid of no stupid coyote, rabid or not.”

             
The class was in an uproar by now and Miss Tucker had finally had enough. “Quiet everyone!” she blared, marching to the boy’s desk. She held out a hand. “Sheldon, give me the rock.”

             
“
All right, class,” she said on the way to the blackboard. She exchanged the rock for chalk and scribbled out some numbers. “I want you to work through these problems. When you’re done, put the answers on my desk.”

             
She replaced the chalk and brushed off her hands. “Emily, would you please step outside?”

             
“
So,” Miss Tucker said when they stood out in the entryway, “did you really see coyotes? They don’t normally hang out in these parts.”

             
“
Well, no. Not today. But I’ve seen some before.”

             
“
Emileee,” the teacher said sternly, “I don’t tolerate lying from my students.”

             
“
I hardly ever lie. But, the kids are mean to Haity. Besides, they giggle like... ninnies.”

             
“
Yes, I’ve noticed.” Miss Tucker smiled. She folded her arms and straightened her shoulders. “I see now that you’ve come, Haity has more confidence. That’s fine, but you’re still going to have to learn to get along with the others.”

             
“
I will.”

             
Miss Tucker folded a hand beneath her chin and thought for a moment. “You know, Emily, I had a talk with Miss O’Reilly and I was just thinking. Maybe you should do something constructive with your imagination, like, well... maybe write stories. What do you think?”

Emily shivered with delight, feeling her dark eyes widen, imagining them as two drops of ink swelling across a sheet of paper. “I’ve thought of it, I have, even tried... some. Once, I wrote about the dogs when they got into a pot of stew.” She stopped and pushed her hands into her pockets, lowering her gaze. “Well, that wasn’t anything much, but...”

              “
Listen, Emily. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. Begin with your thoughts, or dreams, even what you’ve done that day, like with the dogs. I’m certain it’ll come to you, if that’s what you really want.”

             
“
I’ll try, Miss Tucker.”