Through the Deep Waters (22 page)

Twelve grades … Dinah wondered what the children learned in the upper grades.

“Mama puts a great deal of store in education. She and Papa both, actually.” Ruthie finally put her rag to work. “When Seth began talking last year about ending his schooling at grade eight and going to work at the quarry, Papa nearly had apoplexy!” She grinned and bumped Dinah with her elbow.

And Tori had ridiculed Dinah for insisting on earning her eighth-grade certificate. Such differences between Ruthie’s family and her own. Dinah moved to the next window.

Ruthie giggled as she drizzled clear water over the sudsy pane. “I’m sure Seth will go all the way through to grade twelve, as will Jonah, Noah, Timothy, Joseph, and little Dinah June. I can’t believe she starts school this year already.” Ruthie’s tone turned musing. “I hope she enjoys it as much as I did.” She picked up her bucket and moved beside Dinah again. “Did you attend a private school for your education?”

Dinah thought she detected a hint of envy in Ruthie’s voice. If she knew how infrequently Dinah was allowed to leave the Yellow Parrot and attend class at the local school, she’d quickly lose her jealousy. Wouldn’t Ruthie be shocked if Dinah came right out and said, “I graduated eighth grade when I was sixteen”? But Ruthie would never know, because Dinah would never tell her.

Dinah said, “No, I did not.”

Ruthie wandered to the edge of the porch again and peered up the road. “Hmm. I suppose I assumed you—Oh!”

Dinah jumped, splashing her apron with suds. She drew in a sharp breath and whirled to scold Ruthie for startling her. But the words withered on her tongue when she realized what had caused Ruthie’s shrill outburst.

Mr. Ackerman and the little boy named Cale were passing along the street. Ruthie rose on her tiptoes and waved her hand over her head. “Good morning, Mr. Ackerman!”

The man slowed his steps and turned in their direction, his gaze seeking. Dinah quickly ducked her head, her heart hammering and her face flooding with warmth. Would he acknowledge her? She peeked through her fringe of lashes, both hopeful and fearful.

He waved with the hand not pulling his familiar little wooden wagon and smiled. “Good morning, Miss Mead. And Miss Hubley.” He chuckled, the sound pleasant. “I think that is Miss Hubley standing there in the shadows.”

He’d noticed her! She lifted her face, biting the insides of her cheeks to hold back a smile.

“I see you’re shining up the hotel windows this morning.” He took a step closer, drawing the boy with him. “A worthwhile pastime. My mother always said clean windows were a sign of a confident soul who didn’t mind the world seeing what he was up to because he had nothing to hide.”

Ruthie giggled. “Papa says the eyes are the windows to a man’s soul. So I suppose looking someone directly in the eyes means the same thing—he has nothing to hide.”

“Wise words.” Mr. Ackerman’s gaze bounced back and forth between Ruthie and Dinah, as if waiting for her to contribute to their conversation.

Dinah had nothing to say, but she had a lot to hide. She faced the window again. Mr. Ackerman’s and Cale’s reflections peered at her from the clean pane. Their images held her attention as firmly as a miser held a penny.

“I’m taking Cale to school.” Mr. Ackerman smiled down at the boy, who beamed upward. “Then I’ll deliver eggs to my customers.” The school bell’s ring intruded, echoing across the distance. Mr. Ackerman gave a little jolt. “We’d better hurry on. It isn’t good for him to be late his first day. Good day, Miss Mead. Good day, Miss Hubley.”

Ruthie called out cheerfully, “Good day, Mr. Ackerman! Have fun at school, Cale!”

The boy lifted his hand in a wave, and he and Mr. Ackerman set off. But then Cale’s voice carried to Dinah’s ears. “I changed my mind. I think you should marry Miss Mead instead.”

Ruthie

Ruthie slapped her hands to her cheeks. A giggle of pure delight left her lips. She whirled and clattered to Dinah. “Did you hear what that little boy said?” She waited a moment, but Dinah went on washing the window and didn’t reply. So she said, loudly, “That little boy said Mr. Ackerman should
marry
me!”

Dinah’s lips pressed into a firm line. She leaned over, picked up her bucket, and moved to the next window. After placing the bucket on the floor—with a hard enough bump to slosh suds over the rim—she shot a quick look at Ruthie. “Better start rinsing before the soap dries and leaves a smear.”

Accustomed to Dinah’s taciturn behavior, Ruthie snatched up her rag and set to work automatically, her thoughts rolling haphazardly off her tongue. “I wonder who the boy is. I’ve never seen him before. Maybe a new family moved to town near Mr. Ackerman’s place and he offered to show Cale to school. He’d do something like that—be helpful. But then it’s odd that Cale told Mr. Ackerman”—her face burned with contained excitement—“he should marry me.”

She paused, recalling the exact wording Cale used. “He said Mr. Ackerman should marry me
instead
. Which means Cale and Mr. Ackerman must have discussed possibilities, which means the two of them must know each other fairly well, which means …” She ran out of ideas. Flicking a glance at Dinah’s stern profile, she asked a question even though she was certain it would be unanswered. “What do you think it means, Dinah?”

Dinah’s hand stilled for a few brief seconds, then began working back and forth with fervor. As Ruthie had suspected, the girl remained silent.

Ruthie sighed and returned to rinsing. “Do you suppose Mr. Ackerman will come to the Calico Ball at the end of the month? He didn’t come last year, but then last year he might not have been contemplating matrimony the way he is now.” Another giggle formed, tickling her stomach. Could it be her and Mama’s prayers were already bearing fruit?

She watched clear water chase the remnants of soap from the pane and kept her musings to herself. If Mr. Ackerman asked her, she’d go. An evening together would help much in determining whether they were, as Mama had said,
compatible
. Mama’s concerns hadn’t been over Mr. Ackerman’s bad leg but more about their age difference and his occupation. Having been raised in town, Ruthie wasn’t familiar with the day-to-day operations of a chicken farm. Mama worried the work might be overwhelming but declared if she and Mr. Ackerman were
compatible
, then Ruthie would probably settle into the new duties without resentment.

Her gaze fixed on her own reflection in the glass, she whispered, “Are we compatible?” They both attended church faithfully. They were both hard workers. They both liked children. A flush of pink tinged her reflected face and she smiled at herself. Oh yes, they were compatible. She just needed Mr. Ackerman to realize it.

“Ruthie?”

Dinah’s terse voice intruded upon Ruthie’s reverie. Slowly, she turned toward her roommate. “Hmm?”

“What is the Calico Ball?”

Although a frown creased Dinah’s face and her voice held more irritation than enthusiasm, Ruthie couldn’t squelch her own excitement. She dashed to Dinah’s side. “It is
the
social event of the year! The entire town is invited. People turn out in droves to partake of the banquet tables’ delicious offerings and spend the evening dancing. A band comes all the way from Peabody.” She grinned. “Papa thought the songs were a little too fast last year for his taste, but oh, I had such fun!”

Ruthie closed her eyes, imagining the scene. “The men wear jackets, many of them jackets with tails, and they tuck cravats into their collars instead of
wearing string ties. Some of them even have handkerchiefs to match. And the women wear fine calico gowns with skirts that flare out when they whirl around the floor, and they put their hair up in beautiful styles.” She sighed, pressing her palms to her chest and swaying slightly to the music in her head. “It’s an evening of pure magic …”

She popped her eyes open and grabbed Dinah’s cold, wet hands. “Best of all, it takes place right here at the Clifton, and since we aren’t kitchen staff, we’ll be released from duty to attend. Isn’t it exciting?”

Dinah pulled her hands free of Ruthie’s grasp and picked up her bucket. “I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

Ruthie grabbed Dinah’s arm, staring at her in shock. “You won’t go?”

Dinah shook her head.

“But why not? We work all day, every day, and Mr. Irwin will let us off for the Calico Ball. The ball only comes once a year. You have to go, Dinah.”

Dinah frowned. She wriggled her elbow until Ruthie released her. But Ruthie couldn’t drop the subject and trotted after Dinah as she marched to the remaining window in need of washing. “Why don’t you want to go?” She touched Dinah’s rolled-up sleeve. “If you don’t have a gown, you could borrow mine from last year. Mama is sewing me a new one since my last year’s one is too tight. I’m sure it would fit you, though, since you’re smaller than me. It’s a sweet shade of mint green scattered all over with tiny pink blossoms. And Mama even sewed a peek of lace around the collar.”

Dinah froze with her hand in the wash bucket. Most of the suds had dissipated, leaving foamy smears that formed a circle around her wrist. Bent over, her head low, she said, “I don’t need a gown.”

Embarrassment smote Ruthie. What had she been thinking? Of course, a wealthy girl like Dinah would have scores of gowns. Just because she hadn’t brought them with her didn’t mean they weren’t filling her wardrobe in Chicago. A telegram home and a trunk could be sent. She stepped backward as Dinah abruptly straightened and applied the rag to the window.

“Well, then, if not a gown …” Her voice quivered. She swallowed and started again. “Why don’t you want to attend?”

Dinah gave the window one final sweep, dropped her rag into the murky water remaining in her bucket, picked up the bucket, and walked off without a word.

Dinah

Dinah flicked the feather duster across the dressing table’s top. The oval mirror captured her from midthigh upward. She found herself pausing, as she had frequently over the past few days, to examine her reflection and imagine herself in a lace-embellished gown, swirling around a dance floor on the arm of a fine gentleman. As a child, she’d engaged in the same daydream countless times. But she wasn’t a child anymore.

Her lips set in a firm line, she forced her gaze downward and continued cleaning. Despite her best efforts, her thoughts carried her backward in time to when she was eight, or maybe nine, and Rueben had given her a book filled with wonderful tales written by a pair of German brothers named Grimm. She’d loved it and read the stories again and again, savoring the escape into a world far beyond the confining walls of the Yellow Parrot, but her favorite was “Cinderella.”

The girl in the story was so much like Dinah—banished to the attic when guests arrived, forced to labor for a woman who openly disliked her. Cinderella had been rescued thanks to a wishing tree and had found her prince at the castle ball. Castle ball. Calico Ball. Her chest constricted. Fairy tales couldn’t come true. It was foolhardy to even consider attending the dance. And yet …

Her gaze returned to the mirror. She took in her simple black dress and bibbed white apron, envisioning a lovely gown in its place. She lifted the feather duster and held it like a bouquet of roses, even daring to sniff the tips of the feathers and smile as the sweet aroma of just-budded blooms filled her imagination. Fluttering her eyelashes, she cast a look at her imaginary dance partner and caught her own reflection again.

She froze, staring into her pale-blue eyes—what Ruthie had called the
window to her soul. Within moments her image wavered as tears filled her eyes. How could she even pretend a gentleman would want to sweep her into his arms and dance with her until she was breathless, as the prince had done with Cinderella? The only “gentleman” with whom she’d become acquainted had left a mark on her not even a magic wishing tree could erase.

A beckon-me bell jangled, rescuing her from her dismal contemplation. Dinah swept her hand across her eyes, removing the glimmer of moisture, and darted up the hallway in the direction of the sound. The bell clanged again, more loudly, followed by an angry exclamation. Dinah tapped on the door behind which the noise had escaped, and it opened to reveal a frazzled-looking middle-aged woman and a teenage girl. The girl stood in the middle of the floor wearing a ribboned chemise, ruffled bloomers, and a tear-stained scowl.