The Possum Hollow Hullabaloo (The Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series) (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Sam suggested a walk after supper. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said as he tucked her hand through his arm and patted it.

“I see.”
I’m not going to cry. I won’t let him know how he gets to me.

“I don’t do this on purpose, Nell.”

“How do you always manage to read my mind?”

“You’re pretty transparent.”

“I don’t think that’s a compliment.”

“
It’s part of what makes you the woman I—the woman I care about.”

But do you love me? Do you
til-death-do-us-part-and-forsaking-all-others love me?

“I guess that’ll have to do.”

“For now anyway.” He turned down South School Street and headed for the old school. “I guess you haven’t heard from Jessie Ruth again.”

“Hush
up, Sam. She was there, and you know it. You heard her wailing and felt that floor roll just like I did.”

He shrugged and urged her toward the broken concrete steps, settling her in his arms as he leaned against one of the porch arms.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“It’s more private than the front or back porch at the B&B.”

“It’s spooky.”

“No, it’s not, not anymore.” His lips moved from her forehead to her chin and slid to her throat.

“When will you be back?”
I didn’t mean to ask him that. I don’t want him to think—

“I wish I knew.
Christmas maybe.”

“That long?”

“At least.”

“Sam, do you have a home anywhere? Some place you go whenever you’re not doing whatever it is you do.”

“I come here.”

“I meant somewhere else, a place of your own.”

“A little place big enough for me to hole up in when I need to.”

“But there’s nobody there?”

“Nobody, Nell.”

“Was there once?”

He leaned his head back against the bricks and didn’t answer her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. I know you’re curious, Nell, but you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I think I trust you.”

“That’s a start.” He stroked her shoulders. “I want you so much, Nell. I want you forever.”

“I want you, too, but…”

His breath came faster. “Always the
but
.”

“It’s who I am, Sam.”

“I know.” Surprisingly, his hands didn’t wander as he scattered kisses along the curve of her cheek.

She didn’t pull away when his lips reached the V of her blouse. What could he do on the concrete porch of an old school? She slipped one hand around the back of his neck and felt the hair that always seemed to need a trim.
Travis never made me feel this way. Oh, he got my hormones raging, but I always felt guilty about it…and  after that night in the back of his car, I thought I didn’t have any choice but to marry him.

Sam’s sudden hard kiss sent a fiery jolt through her body.
Why can’t I just give in? Nobody would know, not even Daddy. We could go back to the B&B to my room or even the front room and…
“Oh, Sam, oh, Sam.”

As if he’d read her mind—again—he drew her against him, in a strange
, roughly gentle way. Their hearts seemed to beat in sync—or was it the pulsing of their desire?

She opened her eyes and found them locked on his. “Love me, Sam, please love me.” As soon as the words escaped her lips, she regretted them.

His body stiffened, then went limp, and he held her away from him. Tracing her lips with one finger, he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He held her against him again, caressing her hair with a tenderness that signaled the flight of passion.

They walked home in silence. At the top of the stairs, after a single brief kiss, he said, “I’ll leave before it gets light.”

“Take care of yourself, Sam.”

He nodded, letting his hand linger on her cheek before he turned and walked down the hall to his room.

****

When she woke the next morning, she felt the edges of a piece of paper beside her cheek. Fumbling for her reading glasses on the nightstand, she unfolded the single sheet.

I won’t say I’m sorry about last night, because I’m not. I want you more every minute I’m with you. Maybe what happened last night is good if you understand now I’m as wary of love and commitment as you are of sharing the sanctity of your body. Maybe
wary
isn’t the right word—maybe
afraid
would express it better. You’re never far from my thoughts, Nell, even when you should be out of them. I’ll try to get in touch when I can.

I know why I’m
afraid, Sam, but I don’t know why you are. If I knew…if I understood…oh, Sam, how can I love you so much when I don’t even know who you are? Are you like Travis after all? He couldn’t love, couldn’t commit, couldn’t be a husband and father. I want you to be different.

She held the note against her cheek.
I love you, Sam. I’d give you every minute of every hour of the rest of my life. But I have to have something in return. Maybe that’s wrong. Maybe I should give you everything and expect nothing. But I can’t do it, Sam. I can’t.

CHAPTER FIVE

“It’s not the library I worry about so much,” George Harris said, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Tammy was a librarian all right, but she was also the school secretary, attendance clerk, teacher aide—good heavens, she did everything.”

Penelope nodded. “Look, we’ll figure it out. Shana said she’ll come out every couple of weeks to keep the library in order. Mary Lynn and I can ferry books from town, like Tammy did, to fill in the gaps.”

“I’ll come out a couple of times a week, too,” Mary Lynn added. “Maybe we can get some volunteer teacher aides.”

George laughed. “I’ll take all the help I can get, but nobody’s going to volunteer out here. We’re the black sheep of the school district. Pariahs, if you will.”

“That’s not true,” Penelope said. “Tad Rollins has always stood behind the Possum Hollow School, and he wouldn’t do it if you all didn’t measure up.”

“He’s a superintendent in a million. The state would’ve closed us down long before now if he hadn’t figured out how to fund us with local money. He gives us what he can, and we make do.”

“One salary for two teachers,” Mary Lynn said. “You and Carol, Pam and Paul Hollis…it’s not fair.”

“It’s the best Jack can do.”

“And Lizette and Sarah only get state minimum with no local supplement.”

“So did Tammy, but they didn’t sign on with us for the money.”

“You don’t get any extra money at all from the state?”

“In a round-about way.
Textbooks for one thing. Jack adds a little to the budget every year, and the teachers in town give up some of their supply allotment to us. So far, no one’s complained.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “Tammy was a godsend. She had that trust from her grandmother and didn’t have to worry about a salary. In fact, she wasn’t even an official employee of the district.”

“You’ve saved a few children.”

“Not many.”

“One child saved justifies your being out here,” Mary Lynn said. “So let’s make it one more. What can we do today?”

****

“I’m glad you mentioned the Christmas program to the teachers at the meeting this afternoon,” Penelope said as she and Mary Lynn got in the car.

“We’d make the children welcome, but there won’t be any takers.”

“You threw it out there anyway. Mary Lynn, we’ve got to have some help out here. I mean, like every blessed day.”

“I’d come more than two days a week if I could.”

“I know, and so would I, but that’s not the same as someone being out there full time.”

“George is right about no one wanting to volunteer in Possum Hollow.”

“What about Miss Maude Pendleton?”

Mary Lynn choked. “She’s a hundred and forty years old!”

“She’s seventy-seven, the same age as Daddy. She only retired because she had her years in and didn’t like some of the new federal rules and
regs, especially the testing.”

“I think it’s pretty dumb
myself.”

“Well, it’s here to stay, I guess. I’ll bet Miss Maude would jump at the chance to work
in  a school again, even if she doesn’t get paid.”

“Maybe.”

Penelope shook her head. “No maybe about it. She doesn’t have a blessed thing to do except go to the library and check out murder mysteries. Think of what she could do to help the teachers out there.”

“She’s so bossy she might run them off.” Mary Lynn sighed. “We could ask her, I guess.”

“And I will. Tomorrow I’ll go to see her and just tell her we need her.”

Mary Lynn snorted. “She might run you off with her grandmother’s antique pearl-handled
umbrella, the one with the bare spines—the one she used on Wally Powell.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Penelope chewed her lip. “But I’ll bet she’ll think about it at least.”

****

“When would you like for me to begin?” Miss Maude Pendleton set down a translucent porcelain tea cup and folded her hands in the lap of her trademark navy blue dress.

“You’ll do it?” Penelope leaned forward across the marble-topped table holding the silver tea service which had belonged to Miss Maude’s mother.

“Of course.
They need help. Experienced help.” She dabbed her colorless lips with the corner of a linen napkin. “I taught George Harris, you know.”

“I guess you did, didn’t you?”

“Also Paul Hollis, though Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Hollis aren’t natives of Amaryllis. I retired, however, before Miss Tindall and Miss Foster reached my English literature class as seniors, but I knew them.”

I’ll just bet they knew you, too, and breathed a sigh of relief that they didn’t have to endure three weeks of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. I kind of liked the stories, but most of the kids didn’t.

“You’d be a teacher’s aide,” Penelope said, trying to gauge Miss Maude’s reaction. “And these are elementary kids…”

“Pupils.
Kids are the offspring of goats.”

“Yes, Miss Maude, but some of their parents are stubborn as
billygoats—mules, too.”

“I’m aware of that. I’m also aware I will not be in charge of a classroom but rather there to serve the needs of the teachers. I believe I can make myself useful.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can, Miss Maude.”

“My niece Priscilla is employed as a teacher aide at the junior high school, you know.”

“Yes, I knew that. I think her idea for a children’s theatre at the community center is wonderful.”

The corners of Miss Maude’s mouth turned up only briefly. “Mrs. Hargrove seemed to favor the idea.”

“I think everyone does.” Penelope placed her napkin beside her cup and saucer, making sure it was perpendicular to the edge of the table. “I’ll be going now, Miss Maude. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’ve agreed to help out. I’ll call George Harris when I get home, and he’ll get in touch with you.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from him.” The older woman’s eyes fixed on Penelope’s. “I detect a change in your demeanor, Penelope Kelley.”

“I hope for the best, Miss Maude.” Penelope resisted the urge to check the buttons on her modest blouse worn with a skirt instead of jeans for this visit.

“You seem more at peace with yourself.”

“I’m very lucky to have what I have, if that’s what you mean. Daddy’s doing well, my son just married a lovely young woman, and I have plenty to keep me busy.”

“Perhaps that’s it. But it occurs to me that you’re still alone.”

Penelope felt her cheeks burning. “Well, that’s all right, Miss Maude. A woman doesn’t have to be married to be happy.”

“That’s true. As a young woman, I rejected two proposals because I knew very well the unions would be unsuccessful. Then, of course, the war ended the relationship which would have lasted a lifetime.”

“Oh, Miss Maude, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

Maude Pendleton inclined her head slightly. “But I’ve not been discontented, and I feel I’ve made a contribution.”

“Of course, you have.”

“And perhaps I’ll do the same in Possum Hollow.”

“I know you will—and thank you, Miss Maude. Thank you for everything.”

The woman held up a bony hand. “Possum Hollow isn’t a good place, Penelope. At my age, I don’t fear much of anything, but you and Mary Lynn Hargrove—you shouldn’t wander beyond the perimeters of the school.”

“So my son says.”

“Listen to him.”

CHAPTER SIX

Toward the end of October, George Harris caught Penelope between the office and the library. “When you told me you’d approached Miss Maude about helping out here, I thought you’d lost your mind.”

Penelope grimaced.
“Trouble?”

“On the contrary—she sailed in here like the Queen Mary, dropped anchor, and the waters have been calm ever since.”

“What a relief! I did have some qualms about whether or not she could work in a classroom that she wasn’t in charge of.”

“Well, she can and does—but she’d pounce on you for dangling a preposition.”
The principal grinned. “No, she just seems to have a calming effect on everyone. She does exactly what she’s asked to do—but she knows how to take the initiative. The children adore having her read aloud to them.”

“I used to like to listen to her, too.”

“Chaucer?”

“Chaucer, Shakespeare, poetry—nobody interrupted her or fidgeted even if they were bored.”

“Nobody had a death wish.”

Penelope giggled. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

George glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Listen, what I came to ask you about was Ellie Hadden. She’s been coming to school barefooted since September. I keep a supply of socks, but the child’s going to need some shoes before really cold weather.”

“I’ll make sure she gets some.
Hadden. Not…”

“They’re all related out here, you know that.”

“I guess I do. I think I know who you’re talking about. She’s the fifth-grader Paul Hollis sends to the library because she zips through her work so fast.”

“He says she’s brilliant.”

“She certainly loves to read. I gave her
Jane Eyre
the other day.”

“Paul says there’s no point holding her back for the others when she can go to the library and soak up more information like a sponge.”

The bell, muted to provide a soothing atmosphere different from what the children experienced at home, sounded for K-2 lunch. “I’ll measure her foot next time I see her.”

“Thanks, Penelope. Carol said the thrift shop had a pretty good selection of children’s shoes last time she stopped in.”

“Anybody else?”

“Just Ellie for now.”
He turned away as lines of children marched down the hall without speaking but rather waving a greeting as they’d been taught. He waved back and rubbed his stomach, eliciting giggles from the rag-tag bunch. “And by the way,” he said when the children disappeared into the small lunchroom where the elementary cafeteria manager personally oversaw the serving of the meals prepared in town and delivered to Possum Hollow, “watch her attendance. See if you can pick up a pattern for her absences.”

“I have to admit I haven’t put absences with faces yet.”

“She had perfect attendance until about a month ago. Then she started missing a day here, two days there…and Paul says she’s become more withdrawn than before.”

“Trouble at home.”

“Always. If it keeps up, I’ll go see her parents. I’ve met her mother, who seems pretty determined to keep Ellie in school. There’s a sister, too, about three or four.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

“We don’t require notes from the parents, mainly because we know we’re not going to get them. Folks out here don’t explain anything to anybody.” He lowered his voice. “We fudge a bit, you know—mark most absences excused with enough unexcused so the state doesn’t get suspicious.”

“I understand.”

He glanced at his watch. “Gotta run. Paul Hollis and I have to deal with two of his sixth-graders caught duking it out before school. Taking their lunch time rather than their class time seems to make more of an impression than anything else.”

Penelope watched him disappear down the hall before she stepped into the library. Huddled among the cheerful pillows in one corner, a thin child bent over an open book in her lap, her
stringy hair almost hiding her face. It took a few minutes for Penelope to realize the little girl was crying rather than reading.

“Honey…”

The child startled, clutching the open book against her like a shield. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

Penelope hunkered down beside her. “Miss Penelope. Remember, I’m helping out in here since Miss Tammy left.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Still reading
Jane Eyre
? How do you like it?”

Her eyes darted around the room. “Mr. Rochester scares me a little.”

“He scared me, too, but he wasn’t a bad man.” Penelope’s eyes drifted to the girl’s sock-clad feet. “Ellie, right? I’m supposed to measure your foot for some new shoes.”

The girl’s eyes brightened for a second,
then dulled again. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to
.” Penelope fetched the slider bought from a shoe store in Little Rock when it closed. “Stand up and put your foot on this for me.”

The child obeyed, keeping her eyes fixed on the procedure.

“Okay, now the other one. Good, that’s fine.” Penelope jotted the numbers in a small notebook she carried in the pocket of her skirt. “What about your little sister?”

The girl froze,
then bolted past Penelope and out the door. “Ellie, wait a minute! I just wanted to find out…” She got to her feet.
That’s not a good sign. I’ll tell George. He said he was going out to talk to her mother anyway—though how he manages to survive those home visits, I’ll never know.
She crossed herself quickly and mouthed a silent prayer for his safety.