For the baby’s sake, Otis tried to clean up and not drink as much. He took her everywhere strapped to his back when she was little. When he went hunting, she was with him. When he set traps and sold skins, she was with him. But he was flawed like the lot of us. For one thing he wasn’t good at math or he chose not to count up to nine months when it came to Sadie being born. I found that commendable. He died four or five years back.
Today, Sadie comes out with a jar of jelly from her stock to add to my rucksack.
“Mighty good of you, Sadie. You want a trade?”
“No, sir. Them that got, give.”
“You understand that truth better than most.”
I look for bruises and breaks in her delicate frame, but the girl looks good today. There’s a brightness in her eyes. Being pregnant agrees with her. I hope it begins to agree with Roy.
I say, “I’m going to school next because I want to hear about Miss Shaw’s first day.”
“I seen her.”
“Did you? When?” I’m pleasantly surprised Sadie took the initiative to greet our teacher.
“Last Saturday. Went to help her set up the school.” She looks pleased with herself.
“What do you think of her?”
“Got her a globe that spins.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Gonna teach me to read.” Sadie’s cheeks flush with pride.
“That’s a real good thing.”
“Don’t even have to come to school.” Sadie pulls from her apron pocket the Country Song Roundup magazine with her beloved Miss Loretta Lynn gracing the cover. She never tires of hearing the words in this article and the different one Mooney has at his store.
“Ah…Miss Loretta Lynn still lights a fire in you.”
“You brought this one up from the valley just for me.”
“I remember it well. Picked it up in a bookstore on Harrison Street. Knew you loved her music. You know Miss Loretta’s a lot like you. Smart. A problem-solver. She figures things out.”
Sadie blushes at that compliment like she always does. I’ve been planting seeds a long time to help her believe in herself.
“How many times have you heard this Miss Loretta’s story? Three?” I ask, knowing the answer.
“More like twenty.” Sadie grins. “That woman’s not afeard of nothing. She writes songs and sings, and folks line up and pay to listen. Want to read her words myself someday.” She slips the precious magazine back in her apron pocket.
“Then that you will do. Fingers crossed we can convince Miss Shaw to stay. I could use your help to make her feel welcome. She’ll be at church Sunday and we need to show our support.”
“I’ll come if I can.”
? ? ?
In the afternoon, like I planned, I pass the one-room schoolhouse and stick my head in the door and find the small cluster of desks empty. Miss Shaw’s name is written in chalk on the blackboard. I hear voices outside and follow them around back. The children—little Lucy Dillard and her younger sisters, Weeza and Pearl, and Grady and Petey Snow—and Miss Shaw sit on a quilt at creek’s edge. I’m relieved to see some children remembered school starts today and a few had a mind to show up.
“Afternoon, Preacher Perkins,” Miss Shaw calls out. “After story time, we brought our lunch and lesson outside and the children have turned teacher. They’ve kindly enlightened me about local flora. We’re almost done for the day.”
Kate Shaw has made the children feel important and I’m overwhelmed with tenderness. I worry I’ll tear up, sentimental fool that I am, especially after so many young teachers tried and failed. I look down at the tips of my shoes to regain composure.
They stand to leave, and young Weeza gives Miss Shaw a shy hug. I swallow the knot in my throat and say a little louder than necessary, “So the teacher is the student today.”
“Always,” she laughs. “One’s never too old to learn.” She shakes leaves off the quilt, folds it neatly, and tucks it under her arm.
This is a perfect teaching moment this place rarely sees. “I don’t have to ask how your day went. The children’s faces tell it all.”
“It’s a good start, don’t you think?”
Kate is a magician, a pied piper who has absconded with our children’s hearts. Mine, too.
? ? ?
I don’t see Kate Shaw until Sunday although I keep an ear to the ground for news. School attendance increases and as far as I know no pranks have been done to scare her away—at least none she talks about. The other young teachers endured snakes, bloody entrails, manure, and other crass antics left in the teacher’s cottage or schoolroom. They wilted under the pressure. I think Miss Shaw is made of stronger stuff. I do know this: Baines Creek needs Miss Shaw more than she needs us.
Soup is on and my sermon set. Curiosity and novelty mean attendance will be as high today as Homecoming Sunday. I take extra care with my attire this morning and Prudence notices.
“Why you act prissy, Brother? You tried on every tie when you only got three, and all of em blue. And you sponged that jacket front so much the stripes gonna come off.”
“Let me be. I’m getting ready for church, that’s all.” My voice stays soft, but my hands shake.
Prudence squints looking at me. “That Miss Shaw messes with your head. It’s her come to church that’s doing this. She’s a big, old woman who don’t fit in nowhere else, that’s all.”
My sister finishes the dishes and takes off her apron, picks up her thin purse, and stands by the door, impatient. I slip on my jacket and stuff a paper in the pocket. She notices.
“You write out your sermon? You don’t do that. You like to wait till the Lord moves your words.”
“I need the start. That’s all.”
“Brother, ain’t you the fool…” She shakes her head in admonishment.
There’s pity in Prudence’s eyes and extra starch in her backbone. She threw in ain’t to spite me. She was homeschooled better than that.
Suddenly I turn on her like a cur riled with a prod. “Prudence! Keep your thoughts to yourself.”
Instantly I’m shamed by my outburst. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I mumble and try to corral the guilt that always lives beneath my human skin. I raise imploring eyes toward the door to ask for forgiveness because I am the weak one. She’s already out the door.
? ? ?
This start of Sunday bodes poorly and I can’t seem to right it. On the walk to church I humbly pray, Lord, fill my being with your wisdom and help me choose my words wisely.
As expected, the pews are packed fifteen minutes before service starts, and I’m a nervous ninny with a knot in my belly because I want the teacher to love us. Men stand in back so women can sit. The small ones are pulled up on their mamas’ laps. I saved a seat for Miss Shaw in front at the opposite end of Prudence because I don’t want my sister’s snippy attitude to rub off.