Part 17 (2/2)

”Did you like her?”

”Like her? At first, I suppose. She could be charming when she wanted to. She and Robert were sweethearts in high school. They seemed like a perfect couple. He so handsome and she so pretty.” Her face softened, as if lost in a sweet memory. Then it hardened again. ”She was determined to have him, that's for sure.” She stopped and sipped her coffee, dipping her doughnut in the steaming brew, slowly chewing. Maddeningly slow.

”So she changed after they married?” I prompted.

She breathed in and out. ”Before, I think. They were engaged while he was in seminary and then when his folks died, he decided to come back to Copper Springs.” She took a long sip of coffee.

I knew I had to wait patiently for more details.

”She was furious with him for not being willing to leave Copper Springs.” She folded the napkin on the booth. ”I'm not sure she ever stopped being angry.”

”But they married despite that?”

”Robert had promised to marry her. He's a man of his word.”

That was certainly true. That's why I was here in his home. He had kept his promise to Dietrich, too.

”I guess she figured she could persuade him to go back to New York after they married. But he wouldn't budge.” Then, resuming her businesslike manner, she asked, ”why are you asking me about her?”

”It's just so hard to imagine a woman who could leave her own child, much less a husband.”

”Robert certainly deserved far better. He deserves far better.”

I nodded.

She put her coffee cup down and peered at me with those arched eyebrows. ”I wouldn't want to see him hurt again. Nor William.”

Her comment caught me off guard, partly because I had not considered Miss Gordon to be overburdened with perception and partly because I shared her concern. My eyes welled up with tears. I looked down at the now tepid tea cup in my hands. ”I never meant for this to happen,” I whispered.

”Love doesn't come with a warning,” she said in a brisk tone, but there was tenderness in her eyes.

”That's not it...” I started. ”I belong back in Germany.”

”Seems to me everyone you knew in Germany is either dead or arrested,” was her dry response. ”Seems to me you were rescued from a doomed life.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. ”Now, let's be off. It's time to get William.” She slid out of the booth and went to pay Wilma.

I just sat there for a while, holding my tea cup, stunned by her harsh closing words. Kindness was fleeting with Miss Gordon.

When we arrived back at Violet Morgan's house, we found the pair still hard-at-work. Violet was complimentary about William's progress but gave us specific a.s.signments to improve his enunciation.

I had an ulterior motive of my own in wanting William to be able to express his thoughts. I wanted to get to the bottom of why William always targeted Herr Mueller for pranks. So far, all I'd been able to get from him was ”Man bad.”

That much I knew.

Once, as we watched Herr Mueller from the broken window in the library, William said to me, ”Man bad. Girl go. Man take Girl.” It made me wonder if William had ever seen Herr Mueller with Glenda when we'd been in the library.

”You can't rush this, Louisa. It's best to keep building the foundation of vocabulary,” advised Mrs. Morgen, without even knowing there was something I was trying to understand from William.

Patience, I sighed-a quality I had always had in short supply.

As we left her house, I noticed a little ”room for let” sign by the door. Tuck that away for later, I thought to myself, as an idea started to blossom.

Chapter Eleven.

I jumped out of bed one night to run downstairs and find Robert. I had been reading information about schools for the deaf. Gallaudet University in Was.h.i.+ngton D.C., founded by Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet as a school for deaf students, had a football team.

Back in 1894, the team's star quarterback invented the concept of the football huddle. The quarterback worried that other teams-deaf and hearing-were stealing his hand signals at the line of scrimmage. He gathered his players in a huddle to keep his sign language private. Other teams borrowed the idea; soon the huddle became as much a part of the game as helmets and pads.

Robert would love to hear this story. He enjoyed football and had taken William and me to the local high school's games last fall, even though the Copper Springs Coyotes hadn't won a game since he had graduated over fifteen years ago.

”It doesn't matter if they win or lose, Louisa, we need to support our team,” he would say, loyal to the end.

I almost got down to the last step before I remembered he wasn't home. He was still in North Carolina.

The next two weeks inched along. I kept fighting off a strange feeling of anxiety, like something terrible was coming. The last time I had that persistent dread was just before I left Germany, when I first realized that the Gestapo was watching me.

For a week, a grim looking man followed me from place to place. He didn't try to keep himself hidden; he was purposely trying to intimidate me. As I thought back to that Gestapo agent, I realized why Herr Mueller's presence made me so edgy. Herr Mueller had the same disconcerting manner of appearing out of nowhere, watching me, unconcerned if I noticed.

We finally received a postcard from Robert, addressed to William with a message added for Miss Gordon, but nothing written to me.

A significant omission.

I woke up one night from another bad dream, turned on my light, and picked up my Bible, opening it up to Psalm 68. ”G.o.d setteth the solitary in families,” wrote the Psalmist.

That couldn't be meant for me, Lord. I'm not lonely. I'm fine on my own. I just want to make a difference. I'll do that if you will just get me back to Germany.

I didn't feel the peace that I usually found in prayer. Why did G.o.d seem so distant? Why didn't He respond like He usually did?

Reverend Hubbell had added a remark at the end of last Sunday's sermon that kept gnawing at me. ”When you're churning,” he roared out in his pulpit voice, ”G.o.d's truth can't find an anchor.”

The next afternoon, I drove the Hudson, quite skillfully I felt, to visit Glenda and Betty. I scarcely recognized Glenda. Her eyes had a lightness of spirit I'd never seen before in her. We sat down to have tea under the shady porch.

When Betty went inside to make another pot of tea, I unveiled my plan. ”There's a room to rent over in Bisbee in a woman's house. Her name is Mrs. Morgan. She's a retired schoolteacher from the Southwestern School for the Deaf, and she is tutoring William a few times a month. And Glenda, that's not even the best part! I can help you get a job at a diner near Bisbee!”

I expected Glenda to look delighted, but she looked indifferent. I felt terribly disappointed. ”What's wrong? I thought you might like this idea.”

”Miss Louisa, I appreciate what you're trying to do for me. I really do.” She gazed at me. ”But I just ain't ready.”

”But you're healed now! And this plan would help you get Tommy back. Don't you want to get him back as soon as possible?”

”Yes, ma'am. Yes, I do. And I got something that'll help me get him back.” She looked directly at me, an unusual thing for Glenda. ”But not 'til I'm ready.”

The ”something” she referred to must be the ring. Did she know I had taken it? I would've loved to question her about it, to confess I had removed it from the sweater in her closet, to ask if Herr Mueller had been the one who hurt her and ask why she took the ring in the first place.

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