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  The eyepatch was strapped into place.

  “Oh, Bethan,” Jodie said, the sorrow in her voice matching the expression in the face before her.

  “Momma says I’ve got to,” her friend mumbled miserably.

  “Doctor Franklin too.”

  “But you’ve been so good.”

  Bethan’s visible eye leaked a single tear. “They say it’s not improving. They say if I don’t use it, it might get so bad I’ll go blind in that eye.”

  Jodie bit off further argument. Anyone with a heart could see wearing the patch made Bethan miserable. For one moment Jodie thought of reaching out and undoing the strings. They could put it back in place on their way home from school. But even as Jodie considered it, she realized that Moira Keane was an intelligent woman and also a good mother. Jodie knew instinctively the woman ached for her little girl and would not have taken such a decision lightly. What Bethan needed was support and strength, not a conspirator.

  “Well, that’s that, then,” Jodie said briskly. “You’ve got to do whatever it takes to make this thing go away once and for all.”

  Bethan fingered the triangular patch. It was black and stiff and covered with shiny silk. The black strings crossed her forehead, pinching the hair in tight above both ears, before tying into an unattractive bow at the back. On her delicate features the patch looked bulky and horrid. Bethan said quietly, “I hate it.”

  Jodie made an innocent face. “Hate what?”

  Bethan stared at Jodie without responding, then said, “You know—this eyepatch.”

  Jodie scrunched up her face and made a pretend search of Bethan’s peaches-and-cream features. “What eyepatch? I don’t see anything.”

  “Oh, you.” Bethan swung her books in an arc, and Jodie leaped out of the way in exaggerated fashion. Bethan managed a small smile.

  “That’s better,” Jodie said, grabbing Bethan’s free arm and pulling her forward. “Now we have to hurry, and I do mean hurry. I can’t get in Miss Charles’ bad books today. I’ve got a spelling bee to win.”

  Despite their best efforts, they were late anyway. Or at least Jodie was. She insisted on walking Bethan down to her class, and gave the room a cold stare as whispers and snickers began over Bethan’s eyepatch. To anyone else, the patch would have been an irritation. For Bethan, it was a crushing blow. She was so quiet, and so sensitive. Jodie picked out the three worst class bullies, singled them out for a warning glower, one at a time, and strode meaningfully from the room. Anyone who made trouble for her best friend could count on big trouble from her.

  Because of her self-imposed detour, she was scurrying down the hall to her own class minutes after the morning bell had rung. Jodie saw Miss Charles up ahead, deep in conversation with Mrs. Fitzgerald, and her heart sank. There was no way around the two teachers. She stopped where she was and hoped with all her heart that neither teacher would cast a glance her way.

  “I’m still not sure it’s a good idea,” Miss Charles was saying.

  “Me neither,” Mrs. Fitzgerald agreed. “I hate the thought of holding a student back. Especially someone as tenderhearted as little Bethan.”

  Even before she realized it, Jodie started forward at the sound of Bethan’s name. The two women remained so engrossed in their discussion they did not take any notice of her approach.

  Though Miss Amanda Charles was already in her second year of teaching at the Harmony school, Mrs. Fitzgerald had just joined the school. She had been assigned the class of slower learners, while Miss Charles taught the brighter students. These two new teachers were a generation younger than any of the others, which Jodie supposed was why they had quickly become fast friends. She liked them both.

  She watched now as Miss Charles bit her lip in agitation, then asked, “You’re sure she can’t keep up?”

  “That’s just it,” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied. “She is so shy, it’s hard to tell what is her real potential. But she is struggling.”

  “She’s also quite small for her age,” Miss Charles commented reflectively. “Perhaps she would be more comfortable with the younger children. Maybe you are right.”

  “No!” The exclamation was out before Jodie could help herself.

  She stepped forward, then stopped abruptly as the two teachers turned her way. Her face flushed with her brashness, but she swallowed, took a deep breath, and lifted her chin in determination, even if it did mean getting herself in trouble. “I mean, please, you can’t,” she continued in a quieter voice, almost pleading in its tone.

  “That won’t help her at all.”

  “What are you doing out here in the hall?” Miss Charles demanded, giving Jodie a rather stern look.

  “I was just…” Jodie waved a vague hand back in the direction of Bethan’s class.

  “This is not the type of example I would expect from my best pupil,” Miss Charles said, her tone serious.

  But Jodie refused to retreat, even if she got in further trouble. “Please, you can’t hold her back. You just can’t. She’s got a problem with her eye already. She’ll be humiliated.”

  Miss Charles looked to the other teacher. “What problem is this?”

  “A lazy eye. There’s a scientific name for it, but blessed if I can remember it,” explained Mrs. Fitzgerald.

  “Amblyopia,” Jodie offered. “I looked it up. It is usually a correctable condition.”

  The two women looked at her askance. Even Miss Charles seemed at times uncertain just how to deal with Jodie. Only the week before Jodie had heard Mrs. Sloane, Kirsten’s mother, call her an upstart. Miss Charles had come to her rescue, though, and said it was simply the sign of a brilliant mind, to run where others were forced to walk.

  Jodie went on with her explanation. “Her eye isn’t getting better. Yet. So she has to wear this eyepatch sometimes. And she hates it.”

  Mrs. Fitzgerald nodded slowly. “Wearing a patch would be difficult for any child—but for Bethan…” Her voice trailed off.

  The pleading tone returned. “It would just crush her to have to stay back,” Jodie said. “Please. I can help her with her studies at night. She’s smart. Really. I know she can do the work.”

  Miss Charles’ gaze softened. “You would offer your time? Why?”

  Jodie nodded and replied simply, “She’s my very best friend.”

  Jodie caught up with Bethan before the spelling bee. She was walking down the hallway as close to the wall as she could manage, a little waif with her books clutched close to her chest. Her face was a mask of misery, the patch a glowering shadow on her delicate features. Jodie’s heart twisted at the sight of so much sadness on her friend’s face. She walked over with as big a smile as she could muster up. “I was looking for you. I’ve just had the best idea.”

  “What?” Bethan’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  Jodie fell into step beside her friend. “I think we ought to meet in the evening and do our homework together,” she said. “Every night. I could help you with any hard stuff.”

  Bethan made a face. “I’d only slow you down.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Besides, I’m two weeks ahead on my own assignments anyway.”

  Bethan walked awhile in reflective silence before admitting, “That would be really nice.”

  “Sure, we all can use help from time to time.” Jodie gave her brightest smile. “Then it’s settled. We’ll start tonight. It’ll be a lot of fun.”

  Bethan’s sad little face tasted a tiny smile. “That’d be different. School and fun don’t fit together in my mind.”

  “You’ll see.” A sudden idea struck Jodie so hard she had to stop and take a breath. “Do you have another of those eyepatches?”

  “Yes.” The mask of misery settled back into place. “Momma makes me carry a spare. She says getting this one dirty or lost is no excuse to stop wearing it.”

  Jodie held out her hand. “Let me borrow it for a while, okay?”

  Bethan dug into her pocket and handed it over. “Why?”

&
nbsp; “Oh, just something I thought of.” Jodie backed away. “I’ve got to run. See you after the contest.”

  Bethan reached for Jodie’s arm. “I heard one of the older girls say she was going to turn you to mincemeat.”

  Jodie snorted in disdain. “I know how to spell words she’s never even heard of before,” she boasted, though inwardly she felt a flutter of nerves.

  “Sure you do.” Bethan gave her the first real smile of the day.

  “Good luck.”

  Jodie waved and ran off.

  She entered the school’s main hall, where the youngest students were taught in one large class. One end was raised to a stubby stage. Slowly she proceeded to the small area behind the stage where one student from each class was gathered. Jodie didn’t mind the glances cast her way. She already knew the talk going around, that she was that young know-it-all, the one to beat this year. She turned her back on them and walked over to the rear window, using the reflection to tie the eyepatch in place.

  The image was distorted and vague. Even so, the sight of the black triangle masking one eye was enough to make her step back in dismay. It was so… so noticeable. Jodie quailed for a moment but stiffened with resolve. This was something she had to do.

  Bethan would know for sure and for certain that she did not need to go through this alone.

  FOUR

  JODIE RAN DOWN the street, enjoying the freedom of a spring afternoon without homework or chores, when she spotted her friend up ahead. Bethan scurried toward the corner, her eyes nervously watching the darkening sky. One hand clutched a brown paper sack. Jodie hurried after her. “Bethan—wait!”

  Bethan turned to wait while Jodie came running up to join her. Jodie stopped for breath and demanded, “Where are you going?”

  Bethan held up the sack. “I’m taking these to feed Sherman.” The puppy taken in by Mr. Russel, the old soldier, had now grown into a handsome crossbreed, large enough to send the girls sprawling with his playfulness if they weren’t careful. “Momma says I can save him scraps, long as I don’t let them go rancid in her kitchen.”

  Jodie could just imagine. Rancid in the Keane household meant anything that had been left out for more than an hour or two after mealtime. “I’ll go with you. I haven’t seen Sherman in a couple of weeks.”

  “He’s really growing,” Bethan announced and resumed her hurried errand. “Mr. Russel takes real good care of him. And he’s even teaching him stuff.”

  Jodie had to stretch out her legs to keep up. “Like what?”

  “Well, he can’t roll over or anything like that. Not yet. But Mr. Russel’s got him so he doesn’t chew on his slippers anymore. And he doesn’t try to pull all the slip rugs off the floor.” Bethan tripped along the lane, almost running in her haste. “Mr. Russel says he’s in a hurry to teach him some manners, since Sherman’s shooting up so fast. He says Sherman’s got to learn not to greet everybody he likes with two great paws in the center of their chest.”

  Jodie, puffing a little from the pace, said, “Do we have to go so fast?”

  Bethan lifted her eyes to the sky. Jodie knew the approaching clouds were bothering her. Bethan was more than a little uncomfortable about storms. The loud cracks of thunder and flashes of ragged lightning always made her friend nervous, despite her stated belief that God would care for her in all circumstances. It was one thing to hear those words in Sunday school, and another thing entirely to put them to the test out of doors.

  “Momma says I need to be back before it rains. She even told me not to stop to play with Sherman, or visit with Mr. Russel. Just take the scraps in and get my body on home.”

  Jodie could almost hear Bethan’s mother saying the words.

  Her own steps quickened to keep up. “You’re not wearing your eyepatch.”

  Bethan had the ability to sigh with all her body. “I have been wearing it.”

  Jodie felt the tug in her heart at all the sadness those words contained. “Will you have to wear it to school again?”

  Bethan nodded solemnly. “If Momma says I must.”

  Jodie’s brow furrowed. For one short hour, she had understood Bethan’s pain and embarrassment. When she had appeared on stage for the spelling bee wearing Bethan’s eyepatch, none of the others had dared tease her, but she had heard the snickers, seen the snide looks being exchanged and felt the trauma of being a spectacle. It had been one of the most difficult moments of her entire life. Even so, she would not let her friend down. “The next time you have to wear it to school,” she offered, “bring the spare one for me.”

  But Bethan shook her head. “You don’t need to do that,” she said. “Honest. I really did appreciate you standing up for me like you did. But—”

  Jodie cut in. “I’ll wear it every time you do.”

  “No,” Bethan said quickly and followed up with a smile. There was something about the way Bethan could smile that seemed to lift her small frame right off the earth. It twisted Jodie’s heart so, as though suddenly her friend were no longer tied by years or school or anything else Jodie knew and understood. As though somehow she had grown in ways denied to Jodie, and almost everyone else. “No,” Bethan repeated. “It’s okay now.”

  “I don’t see how, if you’ve still got to wear the thing.”

  “Don’t you see, it’s like you changed everything by what you did. Doing it more isn’t so important now. It’s almost like,” she scrunched up her forehead with the effort to explain, “it’s like you made them all see themselves in the eyepatch. Momma says it was the kindest thing you could have ever done for me.”

  A loud crack of thunder caused them both to jump and look upward. The menacing clouds had moved in quickly and now boiled directly above them.

  “C’mon,” cried Jodie, whirling about and reaching for Bethan’s hand.

  “We’ll never make it either home or to Mr. Russel’s before it strikes,” Bethan argued.

  “Well, at least we can reach Tree Corner.”

  A flash of lightning lit up the darkening sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Bethan did not need further encouragement. Clutching to the brown bag tightly with one hand and Jodie with the other, she ran as fast as she could for the shelter of the grand maple tree.

  They ducked under the protective branches just as the rain arrived. Straight down it came, encircling them in a sheer curtain of water. It seemed as though the sky were determined to empty every cloud at once. The girls wrapped arms around each other and pressed themselves up closely against the trunk. Faint gusts blew dampness over them, and occasional drops made their way through the great tree’s protection. The rain dripped upon their heads, but even the wetness assured them the old tree would protect them from the worst of the storm. Even so, each rumble brought another shiver through Bethan’s body.

  Jodie searched for something to take Bethan’s mind from the thunder and settled on, “Have you read the history lesson for tomorrow?”

  Bethan nodded and shivered at the same time. “I didn’t understand it, though. I mean, why did they have to fight the Civil War?”

  “Because,” Jodie said matter-of-factly, “President Lincoln didn’t want Americans to own slaves.”

  “No, no, that’s what they disagreed about,” Bethan said. “But why did they have to fight about it.”

  Jodie slackened her hold on both Bethan and the tree so she could move back a half-pace. Bethan had the habit of asking the strangest questions when they studied together. “It’s just like the book says,” she answered. “They fought to make the slaves free.”

  “But couldn’t they have just sat down and talked about it? Why did they have to take guns and go out killing each other?” She seemed to have forgotten the storm. “Think of all the soldiers and mothers and children, Jodie. Their homes burned up and there were guns and bullets and people being hurt—the book said after the war there wasn’t enough to eat. Why didn’t they get together and discuss it and pray about it?”

  “Maybe they did,” Jodie counter
ed. “President Lincoln believed in God. That’s why he thought owning slaves was all wrong.”

  “General Lee believed in God too. So why didn’t they let God work out the problem?” Bethan demanded. “God could have let the slaves go free without the fighting and the hurting. I know He could.”

  Jodie turned and stared out at the departing storm. Bethan’s questions often left her grappling for answers. She watched as the rain gradually lessened, heard the thunder rolling pleasantly in the distance, and wondered what on earth she should say. The assignment and the readings had all seemed so clear to her until Bethan had started in.

  “I sure don’t know exactly what God would have done,” Bethan persisted. “But I think He would have figured it all out, and without hurting all those folks. They just didn’t give Him time.”

  Jodie had opened her mouth to reply when she spotted a figure hurrying toward them. She pointed and exclaimed, “That’s Momma!”

  They raced out from under cover toward Louise Harland. She had clearly not fared as well as the girls. Her clothing, soaked and clinging, hung about her. And she was shivering so hard she could scarcely get out the words, “What on earth are you two doing out in this storm?”

  “Bethan had some scraps for Sherman, but the storm stopped us.” Jodie inspected her mother. “You’re all wet.”

  “I’m well aware of that, child.” Louise flapped out her dress. “I took a few things over to Mr. Russel and got caught precisely half way home. The sky was clear as a bell when I left. I didn’t think of taking a parasol.” She looked the two girls over and demanded, “Why aren’t you very wet?”

  Jodie pointed behind her. “We hid under the maple.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t do that. Not ever.” Louise turned them both around and started down the street. Her teeth chattered as she continued, “Never take refuge under a tree when there is lightning, daughter. Lightning might… but never mind that.”