considered lighting the stove but doing it with only one arm would be difficult. Besides, she didn’t want to waste any more time when she had so much to learn. With a tug, she opened the drawer, took out a knife and sliced a piece of bread. She was about to take a bite when she remembered Matilda’s prayer at the coach stop. If she were to be Miss Matilda Cunningham, she should say grace, even though it didn’t come easily. “Thank You, Lord, for this food and for this place. Amen.” She nodded, pleased with her first effort.
Her meal finished, she pulled her desk over to the window and studied each book. Hours passed as she copied the letters from a primer. She had to use her left hand because her right was nearly useless. However, she covered the slate with crooked lines and uneven circles that improved as the afternoon advanced. She pressed hard on the pieces of soapstone, writing each letter again and again until the soapstone shattered and her hand cramped. After she finished copying all the letters over and over, she scrutinized them and wondered what she had written.
One of the books showed the letters attached together in a beautiful, flowing wave. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to make such lovely lines? Well, she wasn’t ready yet. She returned to her straight lines and circles, wondering how on earth she would get through her first day as a schoolteacher.
That evening as she fixed her dinner—her third meal in a row of bread and cold canned tomatoes—she heard a knock at the door. She looked down at her food. The knock came again, louder and more insistent.
“Miss Cunningham,” Mr. Sullivan shouted, and knocked again.
“Yes, sir.” She abandoned her meal and went to the door. There stood Mr. Sullivan and a beautiful young woman.
Annie had never seen anyone as lovely. She had golden curls that fell from a knot on the top of her head, her eyes were a deep blue and sparkled with fun and her smile showed dimples in both cheeks. She wore a blue robe that matched her eyes and, Annie could tell, was beautifully made and very expensive. She was someone’s pampered darling, Annie guessed.
“Good evening, Miss Cunningham.” He nodded as Annie motioned them in. “I came by in case you have questions before school begins.” He turned toward the young woman who was wandering through the classroom. “May I introduce you to Miss Hanson? She’s the daughter of our neighbor.”
The young woman turned and gave Annie such a warm smile that she couldn’t help but return it.
“Won’t you call me Amanda? I shall call you Matilda, and I believe we will be great friends! You must forgive our rudeness for dropping in on you unannounced.” Amanda took Annie’s hand. Annie hardly knew how to respond to the beautiful whirlwind. “I accompanied John because he’s very proper. I’m acting as his chaperone tonight.”
“Amanda, I don’t believe—” Mr. Sullivan started to protest.
“But I wanted to come,” Amanda continued. “I admire you so much. I’ve always believed education is important, but I’m afraid my poor brain is barely able to hold a single thought for any length of time.”
“Do not allow Amanda to mislead you.” He nodded as the beautiful young woman floated toward him and placed her hand on his arm. “She is an intelligent and sensible young woman.”
“Sensible? Oh, John, you certainly know better than that.” She patted his hand before turning toward Annie. “I truly do respect your education and your ability to work with children, Matilda. I wish I had some talent, any talent.”
“Oh, I feel sure—”
“Alas, I fear I’m but a useless butterfly.” Her sweet smile turned her statement into a shared joke. “But John said he needed to stop by here before we join my father for dinner. I will excuse myself so the two of you may discuss education and such.” Her curls bounced as she flitted toward the teacher’s desk.
“How are you feeling, Miss Cunningham?” Worry showed in his eyes. “I hope you’ve recovered from the accident.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m much better.” His sympathy warmed her a bit. “Although I fear I will not be able to write for a few days,” she said, glancing at her right arm.
“I’m sure the children will understand.” He cleared his throat and appeared slightly uncomfortable. Annie suddenly felt nervous. “Miss Cunningham, when we spoke upon your arrival, I felt that we may not have communicated well.”
“Oh?” What did that mean? Surely he couldn’t have found out what she’d done already, could he?
“When I found you at the hotel, you didn’t seem to remember much of the information I had sent you.”
“I am sorry I seemed confused. With the accident…” She motioned toward the bruise on her face.
“Of course, but I want to make sure you have no misunderstandings about the expectations of the school board. May I sit down?” He settled himself on a bench, leaning on the table before him. Annie had little choice but to sit with him, though it was the last thing she wanted to do. He pulled a paper from the leather case he carried.
“Do you remember all the requirements stated in your contract?” He handed it to her. “This is the agreement you signed last month.”
As he leaned forward she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and smell the scent of bay rum cologne. She took a deep breath as an unknown and confusing emotion filled her.
She swallowed, closing her eyes in an effort to regain her balance. When she opened them, the gaze that met hers was icy cold and hard. Chiding herself for allowing her thoughts to roam, she took the sheet from his hand and looked at it. She recognized that there were different sections and a signature at the bottom. Feeling that Mr. Sullivan wouldn’t lie to her and having no recourse if he did, Annie nodded and handed the paper back.
“I would like to review the points with you, Mr. Sullivan. Would you read them one by one?” she asked. “So we can discuss them if necessary? Just to make sure I understand them all.”
He glanced at her, puzzled, but began to read. “The agreement says that you will receive the sum of thirty-two dollars per month and lodging during the school term.”
Thirty-two dollars a month! Oh, my, it’s a fortune! She could save it to live on when she had to leave, if she lasted a month. She could buy a ticket to another destination, she could buy a good dinner and…oh, she could buy shoes that fit!
He continued. “You will teach for six months per year for three years, with four holidays each year. If you wish,” he said, glancing up at her, as if gauging her understanding, “you may sponsor an extra term in the spring. When school is not in session, you may live in the building for the sum of three dollars a month if you clean the schoolhouse.”
“All right.”
“You agree to arrive by the fifteenth of October—well, you’re already here, so that point is moot. Next, you will not associate with people of low degree, who drink alcohol, use tobacco or play cards.”
She nodded again. She didn’t plan to do any of those things or associate with anyone who did.
“You agree to go to meetings of the school committee when you are needed.”
“Of course.”
“You
