I doubt the children will be grateful, but I am. Sign, Mrs. Hopkins.”
She signed. He took the contract from her and stood up, ending their brief interview. “Joe can show you our idea for a classroom. Good day.”
She nodded to Major Townsend and was almost through the door when he stopped her.
“Mrs. Hopkins, I am sorry for your loss,” he said simply. “It always seems that war is hardest on those who don’t wage it.”
Red-faced, Susanna nodded and let Major Randolph usher her out. “I hate deception,” she whispered, when they were outside in the cold again. “Maybe I should have said something. You know him well. Should I?”
The surgeon remained silent for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “I think the moment for that passed when Emily told her lie,” he whispered back. “I confess I am not certain what to do. What do you think, Mrs. Hopkins?”
I think this will not end well, she told herself.
Chapter Six
She let him take her arm on the icy steps outside. The cold air felt good on her face; too bad it could not calm her conscience.
“I think this the best place for school,” the major was saying as they continued around the parade ground until they stood in front of Old Bedlam, with its bizarre red paint. “The front room used to be headquarters, during the late war,” he said, careful with her on the steps. “It’ll be a good classroom. As you will see, we’ve been accumulating desks.”
He opened the door and it swung on creaky hinges. He went to the window and pulled back the draperies, which made her cough.
“God, what a firetrap,” the surgeon said mildly. “What do you think?”
When the dust settled, Susanna walked around the room, admiring the mismatched but suitable desks. She looked at a connecting door.
“Bachelor officer’s quarters,” he said. “Some overworked second lieutenant with no family lives there. We call them orphans. This building is referred to as the orphanage.”
He walked to a small desk with delicately turned legs, the best desk in the room. “This will be yours. Well?”
“This will do,” she said, feeling her spirits rise as she began to see a classroom in the dust, mouse nests and cobwebs. “I’d like to start school on Monday. Is there time for a miracle?”
“That’s barely a challenge for the U.S. Army,” Major Randolph said. “I probably have half a dozen stools in the hospital for the desks, and we can find more. The officer of the day is always looking for work projects for his guardhouse jailbirds, who can clean this room.”
He must have interpreted her dubious look correctly. “Mrs. Hopkins, you are in no danger! When I finish organizing this little work party, I’ll introduce you to Nick Martin. There is no prisoner who will do anything other than what he is told, once Nick fixes the stink eye on them.”
She looked in the post surgeon’s eyes. “You’re going to keep me safe, aren’t you?” she asked.
“To quote your cousin, the profane Stanley, ‘Damn straight,’” he told her. “I doubt we’ll ever have another teacher with three years’ matriculation at Oberlin College. You’re valuable.”
With a nod, Major Randolph left her in the dusty room. She watched his jaunty stride to the adjutant’s office, and then across the parade ground to the guardhouse, a man on a mission. The room was cold, but she took off her coat anyway, and her bonnet. Standing on the stool, she unhooked the draperies from the metal rods and sent them to the floor in a cloud of dust. “‘You’re valuable,’” she repeated out loud. “Major Randolph says so.”
By the time the corporal of the guard quick-marched a half dozen soldiers dressed in coats with a large P on the back into her classroom, three privates from the quartermaster department clattered up with brooms, buckets, mops and scrub brushes. The corporal found a keg somewhere and sat on it, as she handed each prisoner a broom and issued her own orders for the removal of the draperies.
No one had anything to say—Susanna didn’t know what was proper with prisoners—so they worked in silence until the bugler blew what must have been recall from fatigue, because the men put down their brooms and mops. The corporal stood up and spoke for the first time.
“We’ll be back here in one hour, ma’am,” he told her, as his prisoners lined up and marched out.
“Amazing,” she said, looking around at the bare room, which smelled strongly of pine soap now. She knew it was time for luncheon; the bugle said so.
Her stomach growled, but she sat on the stool, reluctant to return to her cousin’s quarters because she felt no welcome there. Probably Major Randolph had returned to his hospital.
Funny she should think of him. A moment later, she heard a man clear his throat and then tap on the open door. “Meditating? Nurturing second thoughts? Hungry?” the major asked, standing there.
“Two out of three,” she replied. “I quit second thoughts somewhere around Chicago.”
“Excellent!” He turned around. “She’ll be pleased to see you, Katie.”
As Susanna watched, the surgeon ushered in the woman who’d been on the porch yesterday. She was in an advanced stage of pregnancy, and possessed of lively green eyes and red hair.
Susanna stood up and gestured to the stool. “Please have a seat.”
The lady glanced at the surgeon. “Should I sit before I actually admit who I am?” she asked him, humor evident in her lovely brogue.
“I suspect she knows who you are,” Randolph replied. “Let me introduce Katie O’Leary, your neighbor through the wall.”
Susanna offered her hand, and Katie shook it before sitting down. She handed Susanna a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. “It’s only bread and butter with a lump of government beef that I mangled with my food grinder to make it less intimidating. That is, if you’re hungry.”
“I am. Did you bring a sandwich for yourself, Mrs. O’Leary?”
Katie nodded and pulled a second sandwich out of a cloth bag. “I have carrots for later.” She frowned. “Major, I didn’t prepare a morsel for you.”
Randolph held up his hand. “No worries. I think there is some kind of mystery chowder lurking in my quarters. I wanted you two to meet. I’ll be back later.”
He turned to leave. “Major …” Susanna began.
He looked back, with a kind expression. “Mrs. Hopkins, make no bones about this—I respond better to Joe.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” Susanna said automatically.
“Try it sometime,” he told her. “Until then, yes, what can I do for you?”
“I doubt this fireplace draws well.”
“I’ll have the quartermaster clerk
