Return to Harmony Page 10

  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.

  “You have a gift of a daughter. A prize. A miracle.” Moira Keane’s peppery spirit spilled forth in the words. “She is destined for great things. All the teachers are talking of her.” A hesitation. “Do you even hear what I am saying to you?”

  “I hear you.” Jodie’s father’s voice was gruff. “All the world is hearing you.”

  “Then hear this as well, Parker Harland.” Moira’s lilting accent became more pronounced with her emotion. “Your daughter is growing into a beautiful and intelligent young lady, and you are missing out on it all. It is time you let the past go and see what wondrous miracles God is making in your life and hers right here, right now. Let Him restore you, and grow beyond your pain.”

  When her father did not reply, Jodie peeked around the corner far enough to watch. Parker remained frozen in stillness for a very long while, seemingly captured by Moira’s gaze and the power of her words. Then he shrugged, one tired and defeated gesture. He dropped his head and turned and walked into the back room.

  Moira sighed as well, mirroring the man’s defeat, and began sliding her wrapped packages into her carry bag. Swiftly Jodie backed up and left the apothecary. She understood her father and his reaction all too well. It hurt too much to bring up what they both in their own way kept bottled inside.

  The apothecary door opened and shut behind Jodie. “Oh, there you are.”
Moira stepped up to her, tucking wayward strands back beneath her scarf. “You mustn’t remain out here in this wind, dear. Especially with the flu still creeping about. You’ll catch your death.”

  “I was just going in, Mrs. Keane.”

  Moira took her arm and led her back inside. She glanced to where Parker had disappeared into the back room, then turned back to Jodie and lowered her voice. “Your dad has left you to founder, hasn’t he?”

  Jodie pretended not to understand. “What do you mean?”

  Moira’s gesture paid her words no mind. “If ever you need an older woman to speak with, dear, you just remember me.”

  For some reason Jodie suddenly found her chest burning something fierce. She swallowed the lump in her throat and managed, “Thank you, Mrs. Keane.”

  “You’re quite the young woman now.” She gave Jodie a sad smile. “Hard knocks have a way of making a body grow up fast, don’t they?”

  Jodie nodded solemnly. “Faster than I’d ever wish on anybody.”

  Moira reached around and hugged Jodie with her free arm. “Ah, child, child. You are one in a million, you are. I thank my lucky stars for whatever blessing brought you into my darling Bethan’s life, and that is the truth as clear as I know how to say it.” She loosened her grasp and looked at Jodie with genuine fondness. “I know it’s hard for you to accept my words just now, but I believe with all my heart you’re going to turn out fine.”

  Jodie searched the older woman’s face, then said quietly, “I’d like to believe you.”

  “Trust me you most certainly can,” Moira agreed confidently. “I don’t know that you have chosen an easy road through life. But I do know in my heart of hearts that you have what is required to make good at what you seek to do. Long as you remember to turn all that is and all that happens over to the Lord’s care, and count on Him in your loneliest hour.”

  Jodie felt the coldness creep into her soul. “I’d rather not talk about that, please.”

  “Bethan had mentioned this to me. It sorrowed me so I did not wish to believe her, even though my daughter couldn’t lie her way out of a dark corner.” Moira fastened Jodie with a knowing gaze. “Listen to me, my strong-headed young lass. My own beginnings were hard. I won’t say harder than yours, though I might. A heart that knows sorrow loses the ability to compare. I will just tell you that I have walked a road marked and rutted as your own. I too had every reason to grow bitter. I could have turned my back on the Lord above. But I chose to trust Him. I cannot say that I understand His ways, but this trust has served me well. It has comforted me through the hard times, and blessed me with joy when there was goodness about—and with peace when there wasn’t.” She peered deep into the young girl’s eyes, nodded once. “You just remember that.”

  Jodie made do with a nod.

  “Well, enough of that, then.” Moira’s tone turned brisk. “I suppose Bethan has told you that Dylan is arriving home on this very afternoon’s train.”

  Jodie had to smile. “Only about ten times an hour for the past two weeks.”

  “We’ll be having a little celebration this evening to welcome him home. You’re as much a family member as the rest of us, and besides, you look as though you could use a festive night yourself. Bethan was too busy preparing Dylan’s favorite dishes to come, so she asked me to stop by while I was out doing errands. She wanted to make this dinner with her own two hands, though I’m not certain what kind of welcome that’s going to make for the wayward lad.” She stepped toward the door. “Seven o’clock sharpish, if you please.”

  Jodie was very grateful to be included in the Keanes’ evening, and not just because Dylan was returning home. Her father was becoming more and more morose, stumbling about the home in a gray fog all his own, seldom speaking at all. Jodie fed him a light supper, standing over him to make sure he ate. The entire time he did not say a word, not even when she said she was going out for the evening.

  Jodie slipped out of the house wrapped in her heavy coat and shawl, and still felt the wind’s frigid fingers working their way through and under and around. It was always like this the first few days of winter. Harmony was so warm so much of the time, even in the heart of winter, that it was surprising just how cold certain days could become.

  Bunting and banners still were everywhere in Harmony, though after a full five weeks of bands and speeches and welcoming parades, folks were gradually growing quieter, and life was returning to normal. It was no longer necessary to stop on every corner and say how wonderful it was that the Armistice had finally been signed, and the boys were coming home.

  Jodie ran lightly up the front stairs to the Keane home and pulled the bell cord. When no one answered, she pushed open the door and let herself in.

  Bethan came rushing up and grabbed her in a great hug, dancing her across the hall floor. “He’s home! He’s home! And wait ’til you see; he looks like a movie star in his uniform.”

  “You’d have thought we’d have all seen enough of war by now,” Moira called from the kitchen. “But no, now that he’s finally free of the service, Bethan insists he wear the uniform and remind us of how he was so long from kith and kin.”

  But tonight Bethan would not let her mother browbeat her into silence. She pulled Jodie into the parlor and called back to Moira, “You think he’s as handsome as I do, now admit it.”

  “Handsome is as handsome does,” Moira retorted from her post in the kitchen, but there was no sharpness to her voice. Not tonight. “I will admit that we have raised ourselves a dashing lad.”

  Heavy steps sounded on the stairs, and Gavin entered the parlor. He inspected the girls and said, “I’d have never imagined three ladies could make that much racket. I expect Dylan’s going to think he’s still back on the firing range.”

  Jodie smiled at Bethan’s father. He had the kindest eyes she had ever seen in a man. “I haven’t said a word, Mr. Keane.”

  “Of course you haven’t. I said three only so you wouldn’t feel left out. Bethan, for goodness’ sake, let go of her long enough to take her scarf and coat.”

  “Well, well, would you just get a look at this.”

  Jodie spun about and was immediately shocked to stillness by the man who stood before her. Dylan was not the same youngster they had seen off only eleven months before. The face was more angular, the eyes keener, the back straighter, the body leaner. The result was the boyish Dylan now honed to a man’s hardness.

  Except the smile. He flashed that wonderful smile of his, the one which threatened to split his face and which lit up his eyes with the joy of it all. “This can’t be little Jodie.”

  “Of course it is, silly.” Bethan grasped her friend’s inert hand and began swinging her arm in great excited sweeps. “Who on earth did you think it was?”

  “I don’t know for certain,” Dylan replied as he approached and looked down at her from a height which Jodie did not recall ever noticing in Bethan’s brother. “But this is a beautiful young lady, not the giggling youngster I left behind.”

  “I never giggled,” Jodie replied, finding her voice at last. It sounded strange to her ears, low and breathless.

  “Maybe it was my sister making all that noise by herself,”

  Dylan conceded and held out his hands, becoming serious and gentlemanly. “May I take your coat, young lady?”

  “Thank you.” Jodie turned her back to him, and as she did, she realized that all the eyes in the house were upon them. Even Moira had emerged from the kitchen to watch the exchange. Strange that she would not be smiling, especially since she had invited Jodie in the first place.

  Jodie felt the coat lifted from her, then the shawl, each motion sending little shivers through her. He was close enough for her to capture a hint of his fresh smell, soap and something else, a spicy fragrance he must have used on his hair. She turned back to him, looked up, and wondered how Bethan’s brother could have been transformed into such a handsome stranger.

  Dylan’s voice was both richer and hoarser as
he said, “Yessir, you have grown up, Jodie. It makes me realize how long I’ve been gone. How old are you?”

  “Almost eighteen.”

  Gavin laughed and said, “In about a year and six months, if I’m not mistaken. Or have you found some secret and pulled away from Bethan in age as well as school?”

  Jodie blushed and dropped her gaze. The moment was suddenly swept away as Moira clapped her hands and said, “To the table everyone. This dinner won’t be kept waiting a moment longer.”

  “Now that I’ve seen the army close up, I’m glad I missed the war. Real glad,” Dylan said to his father. He paused long enough to shovel in the last of his butterbeans, then pushed his plate over to one side. He looked at Moira and declared, “That was one of the finest meals I’ve ever had in all my born days, Momma.”

  “You’re thanking the wrong cook,” Moira said, nodding in Bethan’s direction.

  Dylan’s eyes showed surprise, then pleasure as he grinned at his sister. “Then Jodie here is not the only one who’s been doing some growing. Thank you, Bethan.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. As Bethan turned a bright crimson, Dylan turned back to his father and went on, “You ought to have seen the faces of the instructors, the ones who had done their time in the trenches. They looked like they’d glimpsed through the gates of hell itself.”