opera or the symphony. He blew out a breath. Would her departure take place in stages? Would she start going to those places without him? Would he try to stop her?
“There are six stairs up to a stoop.” Karen waited for him to take the first step. “The building is brick, three stories, and every window is lit. Very welcoming.”
Piano music provided background to what sounded like a hundred different conversations. “How many people are here?” Apprehension feathered across his chest. He shrugged out of his coat when someone asked for it, then turned to help Karen with her wrap.
“Rex, good evening.” Her voice held genuine warmth.
Rex introduced his fiancée. Aimee had a pleasant contralto voice that took on a special quality when she spoke to Rex. David recognized the proud and proprietary tone of Rex’s voice.
Karen took David’s arm. “We’re in the foyer, and there are paper chains everywhere for decorations. The party is being held in a room to our left. It looks like it might be the school dining room. Chairs have been arranged in rows, and there must be about sixty adults here.”
With subtle pressure, Karen directed him through the room. “We’re following Rex and Aimee to where the headmaster and his wife are greeting guests.”
Rex introduced everyone and directed them to the seats he’d reserved.
Mr. Standish had a firm handshake. “Good to meet you, David. Rex is treating you well, I hope?”
David forced himself to smile. “Better than I deserve, most likely. During this afternoon’s lesson, I was prepared to hurl a book across the room, but he talked me out of it.”
Standish steered him to a chair, talking all the while. “Ha, I can imagine. Do you know how many books I had to dodge when teaching Rex?”
David took the chair and eased himself into it. With half an ear he listened to Karen and Aimee chattering about dresses and the decorations. He tried to get a sense of the room, of the space, by listening. The ceiling must be high overhead, and he had a sense of space before him. Karen sat on one side, with Mr. Standish on the other.
“You’re in the front row, David.” Mr. Standish leaned in. “This room doubles as both dining room and assembly hall. With only two dozen students at the moment, there’s plenty of room to grow.”
With the way Standish could read people, he must be a good headmaster. David settled back and categorized the sounds and smells around him. Furniture polish, books, boiled potatoes, chalk, and soap. Laughter, conversation, the squeak of a chair as someone shifted his weight, a nervous giggle from a young person.
Rex’s voice came from in front and above him, on the stage. “Good evening and welcome. Thank you all for coming to our evening of recitation.”
The crowd stilled.
“Our first student tonight is Charles Barrow who will be reciting Psalm 139.”
Polite applause rippled through the crowd, and Karen tucked her hand into his.
She’d done that several times this evening, and he had to admit he liked it, even while he reproached himself for those feelings. Each crack he allowed in his armor would only mean more pain when she left him.
“ ‘O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.’ ”
The student must be about ten or so, his voice still pitched high. Had he been blind since birth? Would that be better or worse?
“ ‘I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.’ ”
Fearfully and wonderfully made? Maybe once upon a time, but now, ruined as he was, David couldn’t imagine those words pertaining to himself.
“ ‘Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or
“There are six stairs up to a stoop.” Karen waited for him to take the first step. “The building is brick, three stories, and every window is lit. Very welcoming.”
Piano music provided background to what sounded like a hundred different conversations. “How many people are here?” Apprehension feathered across his chest. He shrugged out of his coat when someone asked for it, then turned to help Karen with her wrap.
“Rex, good evening.” Her voice held genuine warmth.
Rex introduced his fiancée. Aimee had a pleasant contralto voice that took on a special quality when she spoke to Rex. David recognized the proud and proprietary tone of Rex’s voice.
Karen took David’s arm. “We’re in the foyer, and there are paper chains everywhere for decorations. The party is being held in a room to our left. It looks like it might be the school dining room. Chairs have been arranged in rows, and there must be about sixty adults here.”
With subtle pressure, Karen directed him through the room. “We’re following Rex and Aimee to where the headmaster and his wife are greeting guests.”
Rex introduced everyone and directed them to the seats he’d reserved.
Mr. Standish had a firm handshake. “Good to meet you, David. Rex is treating you well, I hope?”
David forced himself to smile. “Better than I deserve, most likely. During this afternoon’s lesson, I was prepared to hurl a book across the room, but he talked me out of it.”
Standish steered him to a chair, talking all the while. “Ha, I can imagine. Do you know how many books I had to dodge when teaching Rex?”
David took the chair and eased himself into it. With half an ear he listened to Karen and Aimee chattering about dresses and the decorations. He tried to get a sense of the room, of the space, by listening. The ceiling must be high overhead, and he had a sense of space before him. Karen sat on one side, with Mr. Standish on the other.
“You’re in the front row, David.” Mr. Standish leaned in. “This room doubles as both dining room and assembly hall. With only two dozen students at the moment, there’s plenty of room to grow.”
With the way Standish could read people, he must be a good headmaster. David settled back and categorized the sounds and smells around him. Furniture polish, books, boiled potatoes, chalk, and soap. Laughter, conversation, the squeak of a chair as someone shifted his weight, a nervous giggle from a young person.
Rex’s voice came from in front and above him, on the stage. “Good evening and welcome. Thank you all for coming to our evening of recitation.”
The crowd stilled.
“Our first student tonight is Charles Barrow who will be reciting Psalm 139.”
Polite applause rippled through the crowd, and Karen tucked her hand into his.
She’d done that several times this evening, and he had to admit he liked it, even while he reproached himself for those feelings. Each crack he allowed in his armor would only mean more pain when she left him.
“ ‘O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.’ ”
The student must be about ten or so, his voice still pitched high. Had he been blind since birth? Would that be better or worse?
“ ‘I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.’ ”
Fearfully and wonderfully made? Maybe once upon a time, but now, ruined as he was, David couldn’t imagine those words pertaining to himself.
“ ‘Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or
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