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Jeanette's Gift

By Blossom Turner

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JEANETTE’S GIFT by BLOSSOM TURNER

SPRING 1881 SHENANDOAH VALLEY
CHAPTER 1
Jeanette Williams’s body wilted and sagged, pulling her thin shoulders forward. Twenty-nine felt like ninety-nine. Until this birthday, Jeanette had held a smidgeon of optimism that she would someday marry and have a family of her own. All hope was gone. God had somehow forgotten her. The cheery frosted cake that sat on the table seemed to mock her dreary existence.
“Auntie Jeanette?” Her four-year-old niece, Geena, pulled on her hand. “Can I help you blow out the candles?”
The child could extinguish them all for all Jeanette cared. At her nod, Geena jumped up and down and smiled, the mirror image of her raven-haired, blue-eyed mama, Katherine. Seemed everyone from the youngest to the oldest was attractive—except Jeanette.
“Not until it’s time, Geena,” Colby said. “So quit bothering your auntie.”
Jeanette glanced at the child’s father before she lifted Geena into her arms. “You’re not a bother, are you pumpkin?”
Geena wrapped her chubby arms around Jeanette’s neck and pressed in a hug. An ache rose within. Oh, how she wanted one of these little ones of her own.
She gazed around Katherine’s parlour at those trying their best to give her a birthday celebration and forced a smile. Tears bit behind her lids, and she pushed her glasses higher on her nose glad she could hide behind Geena to conceal the watery flow. Present were Pa, Katherine and Colby and their brood of kids, Lucinda and Joseph with their family, and Gracie and Matthew visiting from Richmond with their four-month-old baby. Despite being surrounded by those she loved most, Jeanette’s throat constricted to an impossible ache, and acute loneliness crushed in. She stooped down to let the squirming Geena go and stood with her shoulders squared. She best get used to spinster‐ hood. She had a lot of living yet to do. Didn’t she?
Gracie moved beside Jeanette and gave her arm a quick squeeze as if she were reading her mind. The giant knot in Jeanette’s throat tightened.
As if to distract her from matters of the heart, Gracie asked, “How are the students this time of year? I bet with the warmer spring weather, they’re not too focused.”
“So true.” Jeanette gathered her emotions and tucked them deep. “This next stretch until the end of May is the hardest to keep them learning. We lose a lot of the older boys to necessary farm work this time of year.”
“But I heard enrollment has never been higher,” Katherine said. “Crazy how Agnus keeps sending disparaging remarks about your teaching style to the county superintendent. Little does she know that Colby is good friends with him, and we can counter the untruths.”
Jeanette batted her hand in the air. “Agnus has wanted my job ever since I was picked over her. She’s been beating the ‘it’s not fair a married woman can’t still teach’ drum ever since she got married. And I don’t disagree with her, I just don’t like the way she’s trying to push me out. She thinks if I weren’t teaching, then the school board would be forced to hire her.”
Lucinda’s brows arched. “Well, you’re more charitable than I would be. Besides, Lacey Spring couldn’t find a more admired teacher than you. Those children love you.”
“Yes, you have a gift with little ones,” Pa added.
“Teaching is the consolation prize when one can’t find a husband and have a family of her own.” The words slipped off her tongue with a bitter tone. She had not meant to be that transparent.
The room fell silent.
Jeanette bit her lower lip and turned to her niece. “Geena, I’m ready for my birthday cake. Are you going to help me?”
Geena squealed in delight, diverting the attention from Jeanette’s foolish words. If only they weren’t true.
I n the cool morning air, Jeanette lifted her head—and her spirits—determined to fight off the depressing effects of yesterday’s celebration. God’s mercies were new every morning, and it was up to her to find the truth in that passage. The mile-long walk to the nearby school gave her time to rumi‐ nate about the lessons and pray over the day. If nothing else, she
was dutiful in her faith.
The fragrance of lilacs filled the air. She paused at the array of blooms hanging heavy over Helen Donovan’s white picket fence and fingered a panicle. Dipping her head, she breathed in deeply. Ahh, now this was the closest thing to heaven she would get all day.
“Do you want a few for a bouquet, dearie? It will brighten up that schoolroom.”
Jeanette looked up to see Helen rocking on her veranda sporting a welcoming smile. Despite it being first thing in the morning, her thick wavy silver hair was perfectly coiffured. “Goodness, you’re up early.”
“Don’t know how many more beautiful spring mornings I’ll have. Seemed a waste to spend it in bed.” She beckoned with a wave of her hand. “Come, I’ll get you some scissors. I know how much you love those lilacs.”
Jeanette strolled up the cobblestone pathway toward the small but cozy home.
Helen tried three times to pull herself from the rocking chair to no avail. “Either this chair is getting smaller, or my behind is getting wider.” She chuckled as her plump bottom flopped back down.
“Sit, sit. I know where they are. I’ll help myself.” Jeanette pulled the screen door open and walked into the familiar kitchen. Funny how at twenty-nine, an eighty-year-old woman was her best friend.
Helen had picked up the pieces of Jeanette’s broken heart when she’d lost her ma, and from that time forward, Jeanette popped in regularly to visit her. She loved the older woman’s company because she understood loneliness having lost her husband years before. Helen had a way of caring deeply, espe‐ cially for the misfits like Jeanette. She pulled the scissors from the drawer and hurried outside. She must not dawdle. She wanted to have plenty of time to organize her day down to the last jot and tittle. She snipped at a few clusters and returned the scissors to the rightful drawer.
Back on the porch, she smiled down at Helen. “Thank you. I’ll stop by again soon.”
“You’re such a dear.” Helen lifted her spotted hand to squeeze Jeanette’s arm. “How is it that some fine man hasn’t snatched you up already?”
How indeed? No man was looking for a homely woman snuggled up next to him in bed. Jeanette dropped a kiss on Helen’s papery cheek and set off.
She refused to think any more about men or the lack thereof in her life. Teaching was her reprieve from the monotony, the schoolhouse the only place where she contributed to the world and had purpose. She found joy in doing it well.
She reached the one-room log schoolhouse. The door squeaked as it swung open. She would have to get Pa to oil that for her soon. She hung her cloak on the first hook in a row that lined one wall and placed her lunch pail on the bench directly below. No need to start the pot-bellied stove in the far corner on such a warm spring morning. One less thing to do. She straightened the few rows of benches facing the front.
Now, where was that mason jar? It would be perfect for the lilacs. Ah, there it was tucked on the nearby shelf. She moved across the room to the washstand and dipped water from the drinking bucket to fill the jar. She plopped her lilacs inside and took a moment to arrange them before setting the jar on her small desk. The school board could afford only a table, but thanks to Katherine and Colby’s generosity, she had both a desk and a bureau to store the children’s records.
She best review her preparations for the day’s lessons. With grades from one to eight and ages from five to eighteen, there were a lot of wheels turning. She pulled her outline from the small carpet bag she toted to and from the school and sank onto the hard wooden chair.
As she settled in, the door creaked open, and eight-year-old Laura Wallace poked her head in.
“I know I’m early, but the others aren’t coming today.” She smiled. “May I help with something?”
Jeanette waved her in. “Your older brothers aren’t coming again?”
“Papa says he needs the boys around the farm this time of year.”
“Even Benjamin? He’s only seven.”
“Papa says it’s time he learns how to feed the chickens and muck out the stalls.”
“And the other girls?”
“Little Tessie is not feeling well today, so Sarah had to stay home to look after her.”
Jeanette sighed. She couldn’t blame the father. With six chil‐ dren to care for and having lost his wife, he must be over‐ whelmed. News was buzzing around town about the handsome widower and his big family who’d recently moved into the area. They had bought the old run-down Reiner place. All the attrac‐ tive women, whom Jeanette couldn’t hold a candle to, were a- twitter. She ought to go introduce herself. She made a practice of visiting every parent, but her stomach had twisted into an ugly knot every time she’d tried. Single men, especially a hand‐ some man, made her tongue-tied and awkward. How would she find the strength to do it?
“Could you clean off the blackboard?” She handed the cloth to the blonde curly-haired child with cherub cheeks. “I’ll do the top and you do the bottom.”
Laura’s smile split wide.
Jeanette had heard Mr. Wallace was a city boy with hopes of giving his family the farm life. Pa’d mentioned how the soil was fertile and, with a few bumper crops, he would be on his way. She prayed for the sake of his little ones that it would be so.
“How about I walk you home today? It’s time I make my acquaintance with your pa.” She forced the words out of her mouth. She had to get this done. Those kids were missing too much school. Most times a visit encouraged better attendance. Plus, it was Friday, and she would not be missed at home. Pa
went over to Katherine’s for the evening meal. It was Jeanette’s one night off a week from cooking for him.
Laura stopped swiping at the chalkboard. “I...uh...don’t think Papa would like that.”
Jeanette sat in her nearby chair so as not to tower over the child. “Why ever would you think that?”
“He’s not much for talking to strangers, and he tells us to stay clear of the town folk.”
Now that was odd. He brought the children to church. But come to think of it, he never interacted with people. The most anyone could get from him was a lift of his hat. Of course, the women loved the mystery.
Not so with, Jeanette. She was his children’s teacher and should have no qualms about visiting. She only wished her head would tell her stomach, which gurgled and complained at the thought of confronting this handsome widower.
Jeanette stood and resumed cleaning the board. “Well, I’m not a stranger or one of the town folks.” She cleared her throat against the knot of tension settled there. “I’m your teacher, and I make a point of meeting all the parents. So, we’ll walk together, and I’ll have the delightful pleasure of getting to know you better. How does that sound?”
Laura smiled and flung herself at Jeanette. Her slender arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Startled at the reaction Jeanette bent to give the child a proper hug.
Laura melted into her arms and wouldn’t let go. Soft sobs broke out until the girl hiccupped.
“What is it, dear child?”
Laura muffled into her shoulder. “I miss my grammie so much.”
The feel of the child’s arms around her neck broke Jeanette’s heart. She knew what it was like to lose a mother as an adult. How much worse would it be for a child? She would help out in any way she could, but first she needed to see what was going on at the Wallace home. That gave her a boost of courage. She could do this. She had to do this for the children.
“Sweetie, you go ahead and cry. Missing those we love when we move away is normal.” Jeanette held her until the sobs subsided. Funny that it was not her mother she said she missed. Just how long had Mr. Wallace been a widower? And why would he choose to drag the children away from the only mother figure they had?

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