Elm Creek Quilts [07] The Sugar Camp Quilt (29 page)

Mrs. Deakins deferred to the mayor, who lifted the lid and withdrew a single slip of paper. Dorothea clasped her hands together and hoped.

“And our winner is—” The mayor paused dramatically. “Cyrus Pearson!”

Exclamations of delight and moans of disappointment filled the room. Dorothea watched as Cyrus strode to the front of the room to claim his prize, accepting congratulations as he went. It pained her to remember how he had told her he would pay any amount to have a quilt made by her hands. She wondered if he would have said such a thing if he had not imagined her inheritance to be much greater than it was. She wondered if he had meant anything he had ever said to her, and if he meant what he told the pretty red-haired girl now.

“He is never happier than when he has an audience,” said Lorena for Dorothea’s ear alone as Cyrus made a show of beckoning his mother to the front of the room. She came willingly at first, but her pace slowed when she realized Cyrus meant to give the quilt to her. She demurred, but as the clapping and whistling of the crowd swelled, she took the quilt, pretended to admire it, and kissed her son on the cheek. No one who had not heard her outburst earlier that evening would have known how much she disliked it, but Dorothea observed the distasteful curl of her lip and the speed with which she folded the quilt and set it aside. Suddenly she realized that with Cyrus nearly betrothed to someone else, she no longer had to worry about Mrs. Engle’s good opinion. It was an enormously relieving thought, and it cheered her immensely.

She saw Mrs. Collins take Mrs. Engle and Mrs. Deakins aside, and when they withdrew into the vestibule, Dorothea knew they were going to the cloakroom to count the evening’s earnings. Miss Deakins hastily scooped up the Authors’ Album quilt Mrs. Engle had left behind.

The fiddler struck up a sweetly melancholy waltz, a tune Dorothea knew well and loved. She listened wistfully, but when she saw Cyrus glide past with the red-haired girl in his arms, she did not feel a single twinge of regret. She liked him, and any woman with eyes to see him must admit he was handsome, but she knew they did not suit each other well for anything more than a weekly ride in the cutter. She was too serious, he too merry. They would be at each other’s throats if forced to remain in each other’s company for the rest of their lives.

Just then Dorothea felt someone watching her. She looked over her shoulder and was not entirely surprised to find Mr. Nelson there. Too weary to provoke him, she merely nodded and returned her attention to the dance floor.

To her surprise, he said, “If you are not too tired, I would appreciate the favor of a dance.”

She was tempted to refuse on the grounds that a woman does not like to hear that she looks tired, especially when she is dressed in her best at a dance, but she merely nodded again and took his hand. She would enjoy the music if not the company.

Mr. Nelson, however, chose to converse, spoiling any chance she might have had of enjoying her favorite waltz. “You were quite complimentary to my students on the night of the school exhibition.”

So many things of greater significance had happened that night that Dorothea had to think before she could recollect what she had told him. “Yes. I thought they performed beautifully.”

“I think you give them undue praise.”

“I think you tend to offer undeserved censure, for your students and everyone else.”

He ignored the bite in her tone, but she knew it had not gone unnoticed. “They are not progressing as well as I had hoped.”

“Perhaps the job is too much for you,” she said innocently. “Perhaps you should resign and allow someone who actually does like children to take over.”

“One does not need to like children to instruct them.”

“One most decidedly does!”

“At any rate, that is beside the point, because I do like children. Miss Granger, if you would allow me to speak more than one sentence in succession, I would be able to come to the point much sooner.”

Dorothea, who had assumed the point was to annoy her, inclined her head to indicate he was free to speak without interruption.

“The number of students and the differences in their ages is significant enough now to warrant dividing the school into two groups. Obviously I cannot teach both simultaneously, so I wondered if you would consider teaching the younger group.”

She stared at him, speechless. Finally she managed, “You would ask me this after criticizing my teaching?”

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “It is possible that my criticism was a trifle premature. While it is true that the students had received only a passing introduction to the more advanced subjects and concepts, their understanding of the fundamentals was quite thorough in all their subjects. I did not discover this until after I made … several remarks that I now regret.”

“Mr. Nelson, if I did not consider you to be entirely without a sense of humor, I might suspect you are playing a prank on me.”

“Do you accept the offer or not?”

“We have not discussed wages, and—” She hesitated. “I am not certain the school board would hire me.”

“I have already spoken to them. They agreed or I would not have asked you. Your salary will be the same as when you last taught.” He regarded her with barely concealed impatience. “Do you accept or must I find someone else?”

“I would like five dollars more each term,” said Dorothea. “If that condition can be met, I would be delighted to accept your proposal.”

“I will have to consult the school board, but I think they will be agreeable.”

“When you know for certain, please inform me.”

The last note of the waltz faded away. Dorothea suddenly became very conscious of Mr. Nelson’s hand lingering on the small of her back. “Thank you for the dance,” she said, and quickly walked away.

Before she could find Lorena and tell her the astonishing news, Mrs. Engle and the remaining members of the school board approached the stage at the front of the room. “We have our final count,” Mrs. Engle called out as everyone gathered around to hear. “The library board is pleased to announce that thanks to the generosity of the people of Creek’s Crossing and surrounding environs, we have raised five hundred dollars for the founding of a new library!”

A cheer went up from the crowd. Thrilled, Dorothea joined in the applause. Whatever else befell her, at least she would be able to enjoy a library one day soon.

“We will break ground in spring,” Mrs. Engle continued. “Every man who wishes to assist in the building will be gratefully welcomed.”

Dorothea thought of Constance and Abel and hoped Mrs. Engle spoke the truth.

Mrs. Engle thanked everyone for attending and stepped down from the stage. Before anyone could depart, Mrs. Claverton quickly asked for their attention again. “We have one more announcement. The Authors’ Album quilt that the ladies of Creek’s Crossing have so beautifully fashioned has been donated to the library board so that it might be displayed in the library for all to enjoy!”

A rousing cheer went up from the people, but Dorothea was too surprised to join in—and, if she was not mistaken, Mrs. Engle was equally astonished. Mrs. Engle quickly regained her composure, however, and graciously acknowledged the applause. Apparently word of Mrs. Engle’s revulsion for the quilt had not spread far or the onlookers would not have found her so generous.

After that, the Quilting Bee Dance ended. Dorothea offered to help Miss Nadelfrau disassemble her quilting frame, but Miss Nadelfrau hastened to assure her she had enough help. Thus rebuffed, Dorothea collected her basket and cake plate from the covered-dish table, bade good-bye to Constance and Mary, and left with her parents.

On the cold ride home, Dorothea told her mother and father about Mr. Nelson’s offer. Robert was dubious, but Lorena was pleased. “It is about time they realize what a fine teacher they had in you.”

“So you plan to accept?” asked Robert.

“If you think I can be spared from the farm. It is nearly sugaring time, and after that, spring planting. With Uncle Jacob and Jonathan gone, we will be shorthanded.”

“We will hire hands, as we have done in the past,” said Lorena. Her mouth was concealed beneath her muffler, but her eyes smiled. “You can help me with the garden in the mornings and on Saturdays. We will manage.”

“Then I shall accept the position, assuming the school board can scrape together the extra five dollars.”

Robert chuckled. “I think you asked for that additional five dollars just to spite them, not because you felt underpaid before.”

“I will not deny it,” said Dorothea. “If anyone else but Mr. Nelson had offered me the position, I probably would have accepted my original wages.”

“This has been quite a successful night for you,” remarked Lorena. “You have your position back at a higher salary, your quilt was an overwhelming success—”

“Not entirely,” Dorothea reminded her.

“It earned a great deal of money for the library and that’s what counts.”

“It was a successful night for me, too,” said Robert.

His wife peered at him quizzically. “How so?”

“From what I hear, I will no longer have to dread Cyrus Pearson becoming my son-in-law.”

He shuddered so comically that Dorothea had to join in her parents’ laughter, though she was mortified that they had heard through gossip what she was too embarrassed to tell them herself. Worse yet was the genuine relief she detected beneath their sympathetic humor. If they were so disinclined for her to marry Cyrus, why had they not spoken up when he seemed to be courting her?

F
OR ALL OF THE
unexpected happenings on the night of the Quilting Bee Dance, two more equally astounding revelations awaited her.

The first came two days later. The school board had sent word that they agreed to the requested raise. After dropping by Mr. Engle’s office to sign her contract, she paid a call on her friend Mary, who was eager to share an intriguing bit of news. Mrs. Engle had not donated the quilt to the library, nor had Mrs. Claverton erred in saying the gift had been made. According to one of Mr. Schultz’s printing customers, who had witnessed the exchange, Mr. Nelson had purchased the quilt from Mrs. Engle for five dollars and had immediately given it to Mrs. Claverton for the library. “Perhaps Mr. Nelson thought Mrs. Engle would donate the five dollars to the library,” said Mary, “but she kept it. So in the end, Mrs. Engle came out well ahead.”

“Unless you deduct her expenses. She did purchase all the materials for the quilt.”

Mary tossed her head scornfully. Dorothea was trying to be charitable, but they both knew Mrs. Engle had spent far less than five dollars on fabric, batting, and thread. Why she had accepted the thanks of the crowd when she had not been the one to donate the quilt—and why Mr. Nelson had not claimed rightful credit for the deed—was a mystery neither Dorothea nor Mary could explain to their complete satisfaction.

The second revelation came in a letter from Jonathan. He had thought about Mr. Nelson often since leaving Creek’s Crossing, and his curiosity and concern plagued him so much that he was compelled to send an inquiry to an acquaintance in Philadelphia. “Thomas Nelson was in prison for a crime he did without a doubt commit,” wrote Jonathan. “That much was never in dispute. However, I think it will interest you to know that he was convicted of helping runaway slaves.”

Mr. Nelson had lived in Philadelphia, but he had often traveled to Virginia on business for his father. He used his frequent travels as a cover for business of his own. He routinely carried with him money, false identification papers, forged bills of leave, and other useful items for slaves determined to run away, which he distributed to plantations and households throughout several southern states. He earned the enmity of influential slave owners who conspired to catch him in the act. He was tried and convicted of forgery and assisting runaway slaves, and he was sentenced to six years in prison. He served two before his father managed to secure his early release on good behavior, with the understanding that any additional infractions would result in a lengthy imprisonment with no chance of leniency from any judge. Most people believed the senior Mr. Nelson had paid substantial bribes in order to have his seriously ill son freed just in time to save his life.

After a lengthy recuperation, Thomas Nelson’s father made him swear an oath that he would tell no one the reasons for his imprisonment, and that he would obey the law no matter how much it tested his moral convictions, for following his conscience had almost killed him. After the Carters informed him of their intention to stake a claim out West, the senior Mr. Nelson sent his son to live on the family estate in Creek’s Crossing rather than find a new tenant family. It was believed that the father thought his son safer in a place far from his old temptations; it was also said that the senior Mr. Nelson could not bear to watch his son struggle with his decision to obey his father.