Fawn had been at the Wiley’s for two weeks and things seemed to be going well. It was a balmy, fragrant evening, the air heavy with the scent of lilacs and azaleas. The Wileys and Fawn had finished supper when Deanna broke the companionable silence. They had been sitting in the parlor with their sewing.
Deanna laid her embroidery in her lap, watching Fawn for just a moment, seeing peace on the young woman’s face. “Do you like teaching, Fawn?”
Fawn’s eyes brightened. She held her hand in the air, forgetting about the needle between her fingers. “Very much. The children are so eager to learn. I spend hours awake at night trying to come up with ideas to make them excited about school.”
“Well,” Deanna’s voice held a lilt. “Annette certainly sings your praises. The parents of the other children are convinced they made the right decision in bringing you here. Often I hear one or the other of them saying they couldn’t have a better teacher.”
Fawn had taken a few more stitches, pricking her finger at the last stitch she took. She sucked her finger, shook it, and replied, “Annette is a very bright pupil. She is full of vitality and eager to find out everything about the world around her. Sometimes she asks questions whose answers are beyond her ability to comprehend at her age. Yeste...