Chapter 4

Daniel couldn’t believe the two women were at his house. Helen wasn’t a stretch, except that she didn’t know where he lived, but Edna Miller didn’t take long walks, and she certainly shouldn’t. “Are you two all right?”

“Fine. May I rest a spell?” Edna asked.

“Of course, let me get you a chair.” He hustled out to the backyard and carried a wooden yard chair out to the driveway, which he’d given serious thought to turning into another plot. The landlord, he’d learned, was grateful he hadn’t. Daniel had promised to regrow the grass in the front and side yards after his thesis was done.

He brought the chair to Edna, and while she sat down, he looked to Helen to see if she could explain this sudden visit. Helen shrugged. Interesting, he thought, that she could read his nonverbal communication so well.

“Pardon our familiarity in coming by without an invitation,” Edna began.

“You’re always welcome, Edna.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to seem ungrateful for all that you have already given me, but I was wondering if you might have any zucchini?”

“I’m afraid not. Those were done much earlier in the season.”

“Ah,” Edna sighed.

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.” Daniel knelt down beside the chair.

“I’m planning on making some tomato or marinara sauce and, well, zucchini makes a wonderful addition.”

“I see.” Daniel could see Edna was tired. “Can I help with the canning? Perhaps I can arrange to have a couple students help?”

“Oh my. I don’t know if the kitchen is big enough for so many people.”

“What if you told us what to do?” Helen suggested.

“I suppose I could use the help. All that canning …”

“Exactly. Do you have enough canning jars?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I have a few in the house. Let me see what I can do. I’ll be at your place by ten in the morning. Will that be all right?”

“I don’t know—”

“Edna,” Helen interjected, “why not let Professor Moore help? You could use a break. You’ve been working hard all day and there are still quite a few squashes to process.” She knelt down on Edna’s other side and patted her hand. “Let us help you.”

“Very well. I didn’t come for help, only zucchini.”

Helen giggled, a light and sparkling sound.

“Nor did you ask for a wheelbarrow full of squash,” Daniel said. “I have some additional vegetables for the root cellar. I’ll bring them over next week.”

Edna sat up straighter. “What kind?”

Daniel laughed. He and Helen stood at the same time. Her green eyes sparkled, and she silently mouthed, “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Are you up for walking home?”

“Yes, I do believe I am. But you didn’t answer my question. What kind of vegetables?”

“Let’s see … I have some onions, potatoes, sweet potatoes, parsnips, and rutabagas, to name a few.” He helped Edna stand. “Would you mind if I escort you beautiful ladies home?” he asked her, hoping Helen wouldn’t think he was being too forward.

If he was going to get some help for Edna Miller, he would need to act fast. He doubted he would find too many students interested in cooking and canning squash. Then it hit him—Buddy Kyle’s wife might be willing to help. He decided to head over there this evening after he escorted Edna and Helen home.

The walk to Edna’s was slow but pleasant. The sun was setting on the horizon as they approached her house. He would need to run to Buddy’s if he was going to get there before they turned in for the night.

“Good night, ladies. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” Edna winked. “You remind me of my grandson Bentley.”

“Thank you, Edna.” He bowed and cast a look toward Helen. “Good night, Miss Jones.”

“Good night,” Helen replied, and held the door as Edna stiffly walked in. He thanked the Lord for Helen Jones. She was not only a benefit to the children of the community but also a benefit to Edna Miller. The woman was getting on in years and no doubt would be moving in with one of her sons soon. For the time being, it was good that she had someone living with her.

He gave a simple nod of the head and walked as quickly as possible toward the train station, then picked up his pace and jogged over to Buddy Kyle’s house. It would be dark before he got home, and he hadn’t brought a hand lamp to guide his way.

Daniel rushed through his morning chores. Normally his Saturdays were spent tending the garden and working on his thesis. Today would be different. He’d bartered with the Kyles for three wheelbarrows of squash for a few hours of Wonda’s help at Edna Miller’s house. He glanced up at the wall clock. Wonda would be joining him at Edna’s by ten o’clock. He figured one middle-aged woman who knew her way around a kitchen and canning would be more helpful than a handful of young college men. Before he stopped at Edna’s, he ran to the mercantile and purchased four cases of quart-sized canning jars and one case of pint-sized canning jars. He figured there would be times when cooking for two would be preferable for Edna and Helen.

He arrived at Edna’s precisely at ten, just as Wonda Kyle was walking up the road toward Edna’s house. He knew some folks would find it intolerable to let a Negro woman come into the home of a white person, but he knew that Edna would have no problem with it. They arrived outside the home at nearly the same moment, and he knocked on the door. Shortly after, Helen opened it. “Good morning,” she greeted them cheerfully, as her eyes caught a glimpse of Wonda, who stood behind Daniel.

“This is Wonda Kyle,” Daniel announced. “Her husband raises the best pork in the entire county.”

Helen extended her hand. “Good morning.”

Wonda paused, then stepped cautiously around Daniel and extended her hand as well. “Come on in,” Helen said to her. “I assume the professor asked you to help.”

“Yes’m. I’s come …”

Daniel interrupted Wonda as they entered the house. “No need to hide your intelligence in this home, Wonda.”

Wonda nodded. “I’m happy to help.”

Helen smiled. “And we’re glad to have you. I canned very little while my mother was alive. I’ve learned more in the past couple of days than in my entire life.”

Wonda smiled. Her bright white teeth, offset by her coffee-colored skin, brightened the entire room.

Within minutes Daniel found himself up to his elbows in soapy water as he washed and prepared the jars for canning. Wonda and Helen were peeling and chopping up the squash. Edna sat at the kitchen table for a few minutes, then decided to relocate to one of her comfy chairs in the parlor and put her feet up. Helen glanced over at Daniel, her green eyes sparkling as she gave him a reassuring nod. Bringing Wonda to help had been a good choice.

As the morning progressed, Helen learned that Wonda was her counterpart to the Negro community. Wonda’s sister had even gone to college and was now a doctor serving out west in New Mexico. Three teachers spending the day canning couldn’t have been pegged any higher as one of the best days of her life. They talked lesson plans, and she shared her plan of teaching various subjects using Around the World in Eighty Days as a backdrop for all the studies.

“What a marvelous idea,” Wonda said. “And to teach French using the book as well. I’m afraid I’m not fluent in French.”

“I’d be happy to teach you,” Helen offered.

“Moi aussi,” Daniel added.

“Me too,” Helen translated.

“I assumed,” Wonda said, offering her bright smile. “I’m afraid, however,” she said, drying off her hands, “that I need to get home and put together our dinner.”

Edna walked in. “Please, take a quart or two of the squash.”

Wonda giggled. “Thank you, Mrs. Miller, but the professor here brought three wheelbarrows full of squash to our house. I have plenty.”

“Oh dear,” Edna said, looking sideways at Daniel then back to Wonda. “You have my prayers.”

“Thank you, but we also have pigs that will eat what we can’t save or can.”

“Oh good. That’s a lot of work.”

“It is, but we’ll share with our friends and family. I was happy to taste that blue Hubbard squash here so I can tell the folks how good it is and how to cook it.”

Edna smiled. “Glad I could impart some wisdom about those huge squashes. Speaking of which …” Edna turned around and handed Daniel four small paper bags. “Here are the seeds from the ones I cooked and cleaned yesterday.”

“Thank you.” Daniel wiped his hands and took the proffered bags.

Wonda left after exchanging hugs and thank-yous. Daniel made his way to the front door as well. “Thank you for your help, Daniel,” Edna said as she eased back in her chair.

“You’re welcome. Next time I’ll bring the vegetables in smaller amounts.”

Edna smiled.

“I’d appreciate that,” Helen quipped.

Everyone chuckled.

“Thank you,” Helen said, “for introducing me to Wonda Kyle. I’m happy to know there is a school for the Negroes.”

He placed a hand in the air, motioning for her to stop. He directed a glance over at Edna, who had fallen asleep.

Helen exited the house with Daniel, careful not to snap the door shut, so she could continue. He spoke before she could. “I agree with you,” he said, “but we have to keep our knowledge of Wonda’s education and teaching hidden. There are some in these parts who would burn down their barn, possibly their home, if they knew the children were being educated. I don’t agree with them at all, but we have a responsibility to keep their secret and keep them safe. Having Wonda’s help, her appearing to do servant-type work, is socially acceptable. But if you were to go to her home simply to visit … Well, let’s just say you could be putting her life in harm’s way. There’s a reason she speaks in public as if she’s uneducated.”

“So are you saying that Willy, who works at the mercantile, can speak perfect grammar?”

“Probably. He is Wonda and Buddy’s oldest son.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you told me. I was about to march up to the school board and demand—” Another example, she quickly realized, where she would have spoken without praying or thinking something through.

“I suspected as much. I’m not going to try to stop you from teaching Wonda French, if that is something she would like to learn. But if you do, please be careful. Having her come here to Edna’s to help with the cooking might be a way to teach without others knowing.” Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know.” He reached for her shoulders and peered into her eyes. “Pray, Helen. Ask the Lord for guidance. There is always a way.”

“Thank you, Daniel. I mean that. The hardest lesson of my life is learning to keep my tongue silent and wait on the Lord. I appreciate the godly counsel.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I must get home. I have a ton of work I need to do.”

“Good-bye, Daniel.”

“Good-bye, Helen.”

She watched him walk down the road toward his home. He was a good man, a wise man. As much as she disliked bigotry and prejudice, she knew she couldn’t single-handedly fix all the wrongs in this world. However, if Wonda would like Helen to teach her French, or any other subject, she would do it. She marched back into the house and found Edna reading. “I thought you were asleep.”

“No …”

“Edna?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Mrs. Miller,” she tried again, hoping to sound a little more forceful, “I don’t want you to think me ungrateful, but I have to ask you, please, don’t try to play matchmaker with Daniel and me.”

Edna shrugged. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

“The walk last night … pretending to be asleep just now. He’s a nice man, and he’s quite handsome, but I need to concentrate on my teaching, and he needs to focus on his doctoral thesis. Now isn’t the time to get romantically involved.”

“Yes, dear. Whatever you say.” Edna glanced back down at her Bible.

Helen rolled her eyes and went to her room. It was time to turn her attention to converting Around the World in Eighty Days into lesson plans.

The next three weeks went by without a hitch. Daniel didn’t bring over too many vegetables again. She doubted he even had any more, as temperatures were starting to get down into the forties at night.

They saw each other every morning as he walked to college and she held the door open for her students. She had ordered three primers to learn French, one for herself, one for Emma Waters, and one for Wonda, who came by every Saturday morning to help Edna in the kitchen, all on pretense, of course. Wonda’s gift for language was apparent, and her progress in completing the lessons was two to three times ahead of young Emma.

The students were enraptured when Helen read the story to them each day. They soon realized that some of their spelling words came from the book. Helen also utilized a map of the world to help the students trace the travels of Phileas Fogg and Passepartout. She even worked in several math problems based on the story. Within a few days of her reading the story aloud, parents began to show up with their younger children. Everyone seemed enthralled with the story. Even a professor’s wife from the college came over.

By the end of October, the children had decided to attend the annual harvest party dressed in exotic European and Asian costumes inspired by the book. The mercantile had ordered a case of Around the World in Eighty Days, as families and relatives of the students all wanted to read the novel. The only problem came when Mr. Kroger found out he’d ordered the books in French. Helen purchased two, but the rest had to be sent back and English translations reordered.

“Miss Jones.” Billy Williams stood at her desk.

She’d already dismissed the children for the day. “Yes, Billy, how may I help you?”

He plopped his math paper on her desk. “I don’t understand this.”

Helen glanced at the paper. Billy was six and learning simple addition and subtraction.

“What is it that you don’t understand?”

“These.” He pointed to the roughly scribbled numerals on his paper.

“You mean the numbers?”

“Yes’m.” He nodded his head.

Helen had assumed he knew his numbers because he could recite them. “Ah, so you don’t know which symbol represents which number.”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“Let me help you.” She drew the numerals from one to ten on the board. She pointed to the one. “This is the symbol for the number one.” She drew an apple below the number. “This is the number two.” She drew two apples below that number then pointed to each and counted, “One, two.” She repeated the process up to the number ten.

“So these are letters for numbers.”

Helen chuckled. “Yes, Billy. Should I write this on a paper for you to take home?”

“No, ma’am. I understand now.” He pointed to his paper. “Two plus two equals four, right?”

“Right, that’s very good.”

Billy beamed. “Good-bye, Miss Jones. I gotta show my mom.”

She watched Billy run out the door and paused for a moment. This was what she loved most about teaching. A moment later, Daniel appeared in the doorway of the school, silhouetted by the setting sun. “Good afternoon,” he said.

Her heart fluttered. She knew she was falling in love with Daniel. Not a single day passed without at least a dozen thoughts of him coming to the surface. But she couldn’t act on those thoughts. “Good afternoon, Professor. How may I help you?”

“I just wanted to let you know that the college stopped Mr. Kroger from sending back the French copies of Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours. It will be used in next semester’s advanced French class.”

Helen chuckled. “You should have seen the crowd of parents and younger siblings here this morning. You would think I was handing out the latest news from President McKinley.”

“Helen.” His voice softened and he stepped farther into the schoolhouse. “You’ve touched the community. Everyone is asking about Phileas Fogg and Passepartout and where they might be going next. You did that, no one else. You were called here for a purpose.”

Her heart began to race. She placed a hand on her desk and pushed herself up from her chair. “Thank you, you’re very kind. How is your thesis coming?”

“It’s done. I submitted it last week.” He took a step closer.

She stiffened. Her attraction to Daniel Moore had grown each day, yet nothing had been said or done between them since working together in Edna’s kitchen. Why the attraction?

Daniel had crossed the length of the schoolroom floor but stopped himself from stepping right up to Helen at her desk. Instead, he stepped back and leaned against one of the student desks in the front row. He crossed his arms, guarding himself from his own desires. He loved her work ethic. He loved how she dealt with the students, and he loved how she cared for Edna. But he wasn’t going to get involved in a relationship. Not now. Possibly after he was awarded his doctoral degree and after he knew what his future held, if he’d be staying in the area or moving on to a larger university.

“Congratulations.” She smiled and looked down at the papers on her desk.

“What’s your plan for the students for the holidays?”

“For Thanksgiving, we’re creating a cornucopia. Each student will make a vegetable, nut, or fruit out of paper or papiermâché and will put their name on it. The student will attach what they’ve made to a board inside the cornucopia.”

“Why their names?” He envied her creativity and zest for teaching young children.

“Ah, that’s so I can point out how each one of them is a part of God’s overall plan, and how we should be thankful for the special people in our lives.”

He smiled. “Marvelous. I never would have thought of something like that. I do well with adult students, but children …” He shook his head. “I don’t understand them.”

“Probably because you think with your scientific mind. I know you enjoy literature, but you enjoy science much more.”

“Guilty, I’m afraid.”

“What was your favorite book or story as a child?”

“Hmm, I don’t recall. I don’t believe I was ever read to as a child.”

“What? You’re joking. Not even in school?”

“Nope.” Prior to this encounter, the thought had never occurred to him that there might be anything different or unusual about his upbringing. “We were read to from our primers, but we were to follow along, to read those words ourselves so we could recognize them.”

She reached down behind the desk and rummaged through a satchel. She pulled out a thick book with a dark blue cover and gold etchings. “Did you read this?”

“Treasure Island? It wasn’t assigned reading.”

She slid the book closer. “Go ahead and take it. If you liked Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours, I think you’ll enjoy this.”

He held the blue cloth-bound book with golden illustrations and letters. “I don’t know that I have time for light reading.”

“Why not? You said you were through with your thesis. What else are you working on?”

He could feel the rumble in his chest. “You’ve got me there. It is a children’s book, is it not?”

Her lips turned up gently on the right side in her quirky smile. She often did that when she felt she had the upper hand. And perhaps she did. He glanced down at the book again. “Why would I like this?”

“Granted, it is a children’s story. But it’s an adventure. I don’t want to spoil it for you. I believe that reading adventure stories, even those written for children, gives us a chance to relax and take our minds off of our present-day troubles. Beyond that, they stir our imaginations and bring out our creativity.”

He paused and glanced into her green eyes, the color of emeralds. “Are you troubled, Miss Jones?”

She sighed and looked down at her feet. “This job will soon be over, and I will need to find another.”

“Do you not like it here?”

“Yes, of course I do. But, if you’ll remember, I was hired as a temporary teacher.”

“Ah, yes.” He glanced toward the window. The trees were turning bright orange and red. His gaze fell back on her. “Would you care to walk with me, Miss Jones?”

She tilted her head. “Let me gather my work. You may escort me home.”

He nodded. What was he doing, inviting temptation to walk with him? He was attracted to her, of that he had little doubt. But her love was teaching, and if she wanted to continue to teach, she could not marry. Miss Jones would lose her ability to teach these students if she were to marry him. Daniel pushed off from the desk and stood up straight. Where had that thought—marriage—come from? He had merely asked to escort her home. He had wanted to encourage her, not ask her to marry him. They hadn’t even courted. And he wouldn’t ask. She would be sacrificing too much. Besides, she was a marvelous teacher. He couldn’t do that to her or the children.

She loaded a bundle of papers and books into her satchel. “I’m ready.”

“May I carry that for you?” he offered.

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

“You are capable, of course, but I would not be a gentleman if I did not carry your burden.”

Helen giggled—that wonderful, warming giggle—and handed him the satchel. He ushered her forward with a sweep of his free hand. “Have you started applying to other school districts?”

“No. I should, but I’m enjoying my life here.”

“Perhaps you should talk with the school board to see if they would reconsider.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t do that. They’ve already sent me a letter questioning my teaching style, especially for allowing parents and younger children to come in and disturb the classroom for the reading of Around the World in Eighty Days. Even though the parents were delighted with that, it appears that nothing I do will be acceptable to the board. So I will continue to go on each day as I have until the year is over. I know this job is temporary.” She sighed. “I knew teaching as a profession was temporary. Women today are not allowed to work once they are married, especially in teaching positions. I see the day coming when that will no longer be the case, but the politics of change are slow. Just look at the segregation issue here, for example. I am wondering if my father was right and that I was wasting my time with an education.”

He reached out then held back. “I understand your frustration, and I agree in principle with what you are saying, but I also know that I would need my wife to stay at home to care for and protect our children while I am at work. But prior to children or, perhaps, after children, an occupation might be acceptable.”

She laughed. “I can’t imagine it. Can you?”

“If I understand what I’m hearing from the women’s suffrage movement, I can imagine it.” He began leading the way to Mrs. Miller’s house. He still thought of the place as Edna’s, and not as Miss Jones’s home. She truly didn’t have a part in this community. He understood her concerns. Her job was temporary. She didn’t have a home. She didn’t have a husband. And what male would be able to accept a woman as vibrant and intelligent as Helen Jones?

He could, he supposed. And yet he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel responsible for ending her career. He could be a friend, and he would continue to be that for her. “But it will take time.”

“That is my point. Time. It seems to be working against me. I will be returning to my father’s house come summer, with no prospects for work. I’ll be facing an endless line of suitors, from the very old and fat to the young men who simply want a slave in their kitchen.”

“We do not know the ways of God, but I doubt He has such a torturous life planned for you.”

She glanced up at him. His heart cinched. “Thank you. I do feel glum from time to time. But God has chosen for me to live now, in this time, and He has given me these gifts. He knows our future.”

“Amen.” They approached Edna’s house. The line outside her home was as long as usual.

“Thank you for escorting me. I’d better go in and give Edna a hand.”

He handed over her satchel and took his place in line. “Good day, Miss Jones.”

“Good day, Professor.”

He stepped forward as the line moved. Edward Clancy stepped away from the doorway with his pick for the day. “Good afternoon, Mr. Clancy,” Daniel called out. “What does Mrs. Miller have for us today?”

“Apple fritters.”

“Yum,” Daniel replied.

“They sure are.” Edward took another bite. He came over and leaned in confidentially. “She could charge double and make a real profit. But I’m not telling her. I like how affordable these treats are.”

“Perhaps that is why her customers keep returning. Know the market. Know what your customers can afford. She always runs out, or at least most of the time. So she doesn’t have waste.”

“True, there are economic factors in what you suggest.”

“Just a thought. When you are thinking about your future, about making a profit in the food market, remember to keep pricing down to the minimum, as well as keeping your production prices down, so that people can afford to pay.”

Edward nodded. “I thought economics wasn’t your strong suit.”

“It’s not. But a good student knows many, if not most, of the factors surrounding their primary area of interest. And food, whether raising it, selling it, or supplying it for the future, is all part of the agricultural field, is it not?”

“It is. I always learn something new when I’m around you, Professor Moore. Have a good night. I have some work to do back at the dorm.”

“Good night, Mr. Clancy.”

“Good night,” he said, and headed back toward the university.

By the time Daniel reached the doorway, Edna’s apple fritters were all gone. Daniel sighed. He placed his hand on the Dutch door and leaned in. “All gone?”

“Except for you, Daniel. Come in and close the door behind you.”

He turned to the line. “There’s nothing left,” he announced. The three young men behind him groaned, turned around, and headed back toward the school. Daniel slipped inside. Helen had taken her hair down. His stomach flipped. She was gorgeous. It was all he could do to keep from reaching out to touch her silken reddish-brown hair.