Chapter 35
It was early evening in Denver, the mountaintops still pink with the sunset. The lamplight shone down on Maddy on the corner of her bed and caught golden highlights in the deep chocolate brown of her hair. Maddy appeared thinner now, her cheeks hollowed and her hair cut short beneath her chin. Maddy smiled as Kate bent over her and carefully applied her lipstick.
Sam came through the bedroom doorway and paused to watch.
“What are you doing?” Kate asked over her shoulder.
“Just looking at the beauty queen.” Sam smiled and touched Maddy’s arm. “You look wonderful, Madeline.”
“You always have something kind to say.” Maddy sat very still in an antique lace blouse and cream-colored skirt that lay across her knees, her feet close together in ivory sandals.
Kate clicked her tongue. “If you don’t stop smiling you’re going to be wearing the lipstick on your teeth.”
“I’m sorry, Katie. But I can’t stop thinking how ridiculous I must look. I’m too old for this.”
“You’re fifty-five, not a hundred!” Kate laughed.
“You girls!” Sam smiled fondly at the two heads close together, so similar and so different. “Guys don’t need any of that stuff.”
“You know, we’re working here.” Kate nudged Sam with her elbow.
Sam caught the elbow and kissed it. “I just wanted to tell you your parents have arrived.”
Kate turned to smile as Sam walked out of the room. When he was gone, she tapped Maddy on the cheek. “You are not old, my girl. You look fabulous. Luckily enough there are a lot of single fathers at that school.”
“Kate, please.” Maddy put up her hand.
“Please what?” Kate flicked Maddy’s cheeks with the blush brush. “Face it—you’re still an attractive woman. Why is that so impossible to comprehend?”
“Aren’t you finished yet?” Maddy asked.
“Almost.”
Ann Marsden appeared in the doorway and smiled at the sight of her daughters. “Now, isn’t this something?” She came into the room, moving lightly in her grey skirt and light blue sweater, her famous pearls at her neck, her hair completely grey and tied loosely in a bun low on her neck.
“Madeline’s being difficult.”
“No, I’m not!” Maddy laughed.
“Why are you being difficult, my dear?” Ann played with a loose strand of Maddy’s hair. “Just to tease your sister?”
“I just don’t see why Kate should make such of fuss over my make-up, that’s all.”
Ann took a handful of hairpins and a comb from the dresser and stood behind Maddy where, quickly and efficiently, she began putting up the silky chocolate hair. “Dear, it’s not every day a teacher gets honored for her life’s work. You’ve earned tonight.” Ann lifted several grey strands from the curling mass of brown. “Kate, I think Madeline’s going to need her roots touched-up next week.”
“It’s not that, Mom. I am happy, and I’m flattered. I just don’t want to fuss with things that don’t matter.”
Kate stepped back and squinted at Maddy. She sighed.
“That bad?” Maddy twisted toward Ann.
“Absolutely elegant.” Kate said. “I have a necklace that would go beautifully with that lace blouse.”
Maddy instantly touched her collarbone. “No, thank you.”
Kate made a noise of exasperation. “Madeline! Why won’t you ever wear a necklace?”
“I don’t like to, that’s all.” Maddy reached for Kate’s hand and squeezed it. “But I do appreciate this. I’m sorry I can’t see it!”
Kate laughed, and Ann smiled at her over Maddy’s head.
“I still can’t believe you’ve been teaching at that school for twenty-five years.” Ann pinned Maddy’s hair in soft coils. “How time flies.”
“I can,” Maddy said. “And I don’t mean that in a negative way.”
“Aren’t you happy teaching?” Kate leaned against the dresser, watching.
“Of course I am. My children fill that void in me I once thought could never be filled. They’ve made me feel useful and important and alive for a reason. Being their mentor has saved my sanity. It’s saved my life!”
“So what did you mean?” Ann put the comb on the bed and stood back to examine Maddy’s hair held back from her face in smooth wings that shone in the lamplight. Ann nodded to Kate.
“I’m just feeling the years behind me, I guess.” Maddy sighed. “I know that this is a part of my life, but it’s not my entire life. It’s what I do, not who I am.”
“We know that, dear.” Ann spoke in a quiet tone. She placed her hand under Maddy’s chin and whispered in her ear. “You are much more than your work, darling. You are my gift.”
That evening Sam and Kate sat with Ann in the first row of the St. Bartholomew’s School auditorium. The staff and student body, alumni and parents clapped and chanted Maddy’s name as she rose from her seat and crossed the stage with Tom Marsden, still a dignified man, although he walked now stiffly and with care.
The school principal, signaling to Tom, spoke into the microphone. “Ms. Marden, tonight we gather together on this most auspicious occasion to pay tribute to you: our teacher, our mentor, and our friend. You have given St. Bartholomew’s twenty-five years of service, sharing your time, your talents, and your gifts with us. We have been enriched and motivated by your teaching and guidance. I ask of all those here tonight who have been changed, inspired, and empowered—please show your gratitude to our own Ms. Marsden.” The principal lowered the microphone, and the crowd burst into a thunderous ovation.
Maddy, surprised and moved to tears, took a few minutes to hide her face as she smoothed her lace blouse while Tom adjusted the microphone for her. “Thank you,” Maddy began. She smiled and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “Thank you all so much. Working at St. Bartholomew’s over the years has been such an incredible experience. I never knew before that a job could bring so much satisfaction. When I came to work here and met all of you, I never imagined this would become more than a teacher’s position, that it would become the center of my life, the place where I’ve learned nearly everything I know about the human spirit.”
“We love you Ms. Marsden,” a voice shouted from the audience.
Maddy raised her head, blushing, and one hand to her throat. “When I started here—having been born with sight—I knew I could teach art, but I wasn’t sure I could teach what the children here really needed from me. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to teach what it’s like to see. Well, what a surprise I got! I never expected my experiences here would give me a much clearer view into the world than eyes ever could.” Maddy paused. “I have touched so many of your hands, heard so many of your sweet voices, felt—so much emotion. Thinking I had come to assist you, I found instead that you all have touched me in the most powerful way possible. You have empowered, mentored, enriched, and motivated me. My life has been meaningful because I have you. I am forever grateful for this company of unique and special individuals. Thank you. I love you all.”
As the crowd roared, the principal handed Maddy a bouquet of roses and a hand-made Braille book with the names of the St. Bartholomew’s family lettered on the front. Maddy clutched the gifts to her and turned, smiling, to the audience, and her once-lovely hazel eyes, now clouded over their green flecks, swam with tears under the auditorium lights.
That evening Maddy and Kate sat alone on the Marsdens’ patio. Citronella candles flickered in the shadows as they leaned back on the chaise, cradling glasses of white wine.
“I’m so proud of you, Madeline.” Kate reached over and touched Maddy’s arm. “Did you have a good time tonight?”
“I did.” Maddy put her hand over Kate’s.
“So why do I get the feeling something’s wrong?”
Maddy took a sip of wine and rested her head on the chaise. “You’re always right about me. I was just thinking about what makes someone successful.”
“You’re successful. Look how many people you’ve touched.”
“I know. I do, honest. But at the end of the day, I don’t have anyone to share it with.”
Kate frowned. “You have us.”
“I know, but deep down you understand what I’m saying. You have Sam and the children to share things with, to grow old with. I guess I’m just feeling the loss of—not having that.”
“It’s not too late, my dear.”
Maddy squeezed Kate’s hand gently. “Thank you for everything you have always given me, Katie. I want you to know I treasure it.” Her voice was soft in the quiet evening.
Kate took a sip and looked away, tightening her grip on Maddy’s hand. A sharp cry came from indoors, and Kate sat up, spilling her wine.