church.”
“Ah, yes. Makes sense. Did you have a best friend?”
“Not when I was younger. I spent a lot of time with Jane Alistair, the lady’s maid to my grandmother. She’s the one who first taught me about hats.”
“So you always lived in a predominantly adult world. Interesting, I’d like to explore this area. Perhaps you could draw a church picnic or a Sunday school class.”
Nell sighed. It was a waste of time. Her drawings of her grandmother, one of her father on his Royal Navy ship, and the garden had done nothing but stir up longing for her family and England. And yet, Dr. Underwood’s current suggestion had unearthed a scorching memory.
It took longer than usual to do the sketch, and when she’d finished, Dr. Underwood studied it for a moment and pointed to a figure in the corner. “Is this you?”
Nell smiled. “It is. And now that you pointed it out, I know I always choose to sit in an obscure place, my b-back to the wall.”
“Any particular reason?”
“It’s what I’ve always done, a way to observe p-people and stay on the f-fringe.”
“I prefer that myself, so I’m not being critical, just clarifying. But I did notice that you’re faltering again. Perhaps an old wound. Think it over and we’ll talk about it after Thanksgiving.” He tucked the sketch in her folder and wished her a happy holiday.
On the trolley, Nell stared at the throng out the window. Dusk had come quickly, and with it a chill wind. Through the blur of glass, she thought of the picture she’d drawn and of that day long ago.
* * *
A light snow had fallen overnight, the temperature sinking as the day wore on. As she ran to the carriage house, ten-year-old Prunella’s breath came out in puffs like the ones from her papa’s pipe. Freddy held the door for her to get in the back of Grandfather’s car for her weekly confirmation class. The minute Freddy pulled to a stop in front of St. John’s Church, Prunella jumped from the Rolls-Royce and ducked her head into the wind. She hated arriving in the car and the jabs from the children who had to walk from school to attend the class.
Prunella the Princess.
What’s the matter, your legs broken so you have your chauffeur drive you to catechism school?
If she answered, they ridiculed her stammer. If she remained silent, they taunted, Cat got your tongue?
The transept was frigid that day, but it was a relief to get in from the wind, and an even bigger relief that she’d made it without an encounter. She took her spot on the far end of the back row, the stone bench like ice through her woolen dress. Her stomach twisted when Wiggins, the teaching elder, entered, eyeing her with a frown. He turned his back and coughed into his fist, a loud rattle deep in his chest.
With her attention on Wiggins, she didn’t see the others come in. Simone Honeycutt slipped next to her. Prunella’s stomach wrung itself into a knot. Anyone but Simone. She quirked her mouth into a smile, determined not to let Simone, with her innocent violet eyes and hair that fell to her shoulders in ringlets, unsettle her.
Wiggins recovered from the spasm and led them in the opening exercise. He cleared his throat and looked straight at her. “Prunella, please stand and recite this week’s assignment.”
The Ten Commandments. She knew them backward and forward, but when his eyes pierced hers, she froze.
Relax, you half-wit. You can do this. She let her jaw go slack and tried not to think about the words lodged in her throat. She rose on jellied legs, biting her lip until the taste of blood filled her mouth. “Thou shalt h-have no other g-g-g…” She stared at her feet, and in her side vision she saw Simone Honeycutt stick a finger in her mouth like she was gagging.
Prunella looked straight ahead and started over. “Thou shalt have no other ga-ga-gags…g-g-gods before me.” Laughter echoed from the walls of the transept. Cold. Hollow.
The only one not laughing was Wiggins. Instead
“Ah, yes. Makes sense. Did you have a best friend?”
“Not when I was younger. I spent a lot of time with Jane Alistair, the lady’s maid to my grandmother. She’s the one who first taught me about hats.”
“So you always lived in a predominantly adult world. Interesting, I’d like to explore this area. Perhaps you could draw a church picnic or a Sunday school class.”
Nell sighed. It was a waste of time. Her drawings of her grandmother, one of her father on his Royal Navy ship, and the garden had done nothing but stir up longing for her family and England. And yet, Dr. Underwood’s current suggestion had unearthed a scorching memory.
It took longer than usual to do the sketch, and when she’d finished, Dr. Underwood studied it for a moment and pointed to a figure in the corner. “Is this you?”
Nell smiled. “It is. And now that you pointed it out, I know I always choose to sit in an obscure place, my b-back to the wall.”
“Any particular reason?”
“It’s what I’ve always done, a way to observe p-people and stay on the f-fringe.”
“I prefer that myself, so I’m not being critical, just clarifying. But I did notice that you’re faltering again. Perhaps an old wound. Think it over and we’ll talk about it after Thanksgiving.” He tucked the sketch in her folder and wished her a happy holiday.
On the trolley, Nell stared at the throng out the window. Dusk had come quickly, and with it a chill wind. Through the blur of glass, she thought of the picture she’d drawn and of that day long ago.
* * *
A light snow had fallen overnight, the temperature sinking as the day wore on. As she ran to the carriage house, ten-year-old Prunella’s breath came out in puffs like the ones from her papa’s pipe. Freddy held the door for her to get in the back of Grandfather’s car for her weekly confirmation class. The minute Freddy pulled to a stop in front of St. John’s Church, Prunella jumped from the Rolls-Royce and ducked her head into the wind. She hated arriving in the car and the jabs from the children who had to walk from school to attend the class.
Prunella the Princess.
What’s the matter, your legs broken so you have your chauffeur drive you to catechism school?
If she answered, they ridiculed her stammer. If she remained silent, they taunted, Cat got your tongue?
The transept was frigid that day, but it was a relief to get in from the wind, and an even bigger relief that she’d made it without an encounter. She took her spot on the far end of the back row, the stone bench like ice through her woolen dress. Her stomach twisted when Wiggins, the teaching elder, entered, eyeing her with a frown. He turned his back and coughed into his fist, a loud rattle deep in his chest.
With her attention on Wiggins, she didn’t see the others come in. Simone Honeycutt slipped next to her. Prunella’s stomach wrung itself into a knot. Anyone but Simone. She quirked her mouth into a smile, determined not to let Simone, with her innocent violet eyes and hair that fell to her shoulders in ringlets, unsettle her.
Wiggins recovered from the spasm and led them in the opening exercise. He cleared his throat and looked straight at her. “Prunella, please stand and recite this week’s assignment.”
The Ten Commandments. She knew them backward and forward, but when his eyes pierced hers, she froze.
Relax, you half-wit. You can do this. She let her jaw go slack and tried not to think about the words lodged in her throat. She rose on jellied legs, biting her lip until the taste of blood filled her mouth. “Thou shalt h-have no other g-g-g…” She stared at her feet, and in her side vision she saw Simone Honeycutt stick a finger in her mouth like she was gagging.
Prunella looked straight ahead and started over. “Thou shalt have no other ga-ga-gags…g-g-gods before me.” Laughter echoed from the walls of the transept. Cold. Hollow.
The only one not laughing was Wiggins. Instead
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