The Copper Series Read online

  Her brows flickered up. “His point, exactly.” She took the dishtowel out of my hand. “Go talk to him. I’ll clean up and get William to bed.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him. I’m too angry.” I looked directly at her. “What about your opinion? What do you say about William being sent off to boarding school?”

  “Well, if you noticed, Robert didn’t ask me. He asked you. So, go. Talk to him.”

  “Wait. What does it mean to drive a body barmy? Did he swear at me?”

  “No, no, no. It’s a Scottish expression my father used to say. Robert’s grandfather. Driving a body barmy is something you do very well. Off with you!” She waved her dishcloth at me as if shooing the butler.

  Slowly walking over to the kitchen door, I picked up the car keys that were hanging on the keyboard. I walked over to Robert’s office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Robert said.

  I opened the door and barely popped my head in, not quite sure what reaction awaited me.

  He looked at me. “Louisa…,” he started.

  I interrupted him by holding up the car keys. “Can I take you for a drive?”

  Slowly, he stood up and walked over to me, taking the keys out of my hand. “I’ll go on a drive, but only if I’m the one who’s driving. I’m not in the mood to have my life endangered.”

  We walked over to his beloved Hudson. Robert held the door open for me, then went around to his side. “Where are we headed?” he asked.

  I wanted to go back to the place where that awful flight instructor took me. Despite such a disastrous date, the setting was lovely in the day, and I thought it might be even more beautiful in the evening, especially with a full moon overlooking the desert valley as there was tonight.

  After I gave him directions, we drove along in silence, the awkwardness of unfinished business lingered between us. When we arrived up on the plateau, I showed him where to park. “Look, isn’t it pretty? Those rocks are piled up like tortillas. And look at the valley!” The pale moon cast eerie shadows over the nooks and crevices down below.

  Robert craned his neck to look around the parking area. “Is this where that fellow took you? This is where the high school kids come to neck. Look around.”

  There were a number of cars with steamed up windows. “Is necking the same thing as sparking?” I asked.

  Once he finished laughing, he looked at me for a long moment, bemused. Then he said, “Louisa, you are a strange combination of the most intelligent and most ingenuous person I have ever met.”

  Again, a self-conscious silence filled the car, until we both spoke at once. “Wait, Robert. Let me explain something. I wasn’t trying to be difficult. I don’t have an opinion to give you about sending William to boarding school because I really don’t know what the right answer is.”

  He shifted in his seat to turn toward me. “Neither do I. That’s why I wanted to hear what you thought about it. Don’t you think I’m worried I could be making a huge mistake? Or that William might feel abandoned again just as he’s finally getting over Ruth’s desertion? But then again, what if he might be missing something by not being in a school that could help him communicate?”

  I sighed and looked straight forward. “I had hoped doing the correspondence classes would be enough for now.”

  “You started this whole thing.”

  “I know.”

  “You said it should be like immersing yourself in a foreign country.”

  “I remember.” Why did I ever tell him that? What was I thinking? Probably that he didn’t really listen to me.

  “I can see how quickly he is learning. It makes me think it might be better for him to be at the school, being taught by professionals.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying without much success to hide my disappointment that Robert didn’t think I was qualified. I had been working hard to stay ahead of William’s rapid progress. “It’s just that…I’m concerned you might be making this decision because of pressure from Herr Mueller.”

  “Apparently, Mueller is trying to concoct misdemeanor charges against William.”

  So that’s what started this. “What does that mean?”

  “He’s trying to build a case to prove William should be in a specialized school or a state institution. Can you imagine anyone pressing charges against a five-year-old boy?” Robert shook his head in disgust. “Still, I can’t deny William is unreasonably belligerent with the man.”

  “But only with Herr Mueller. No one else. Well, he pulls a few boyish pranks at the church, but everyone enjoys him. No one minds his antics. Just Herr Mueller.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then he looked over at me. “I want you to come with us on Friday.”

  “Then I’ll come.” We looked up at the stars for a few minutes, both alone with our thoughts.

  Then, Robert surprised me. Shocked me, actually. “Louisa, could we pray about this?” he asked.

  Pleased, I smiled and held out my hand.

  He took my hand in his and began to pray. “Holy Father, I need your help. I am asking for your guidance over this important decision for William. I need to see the answer clearly.”

  Then I added, “And, Lord, we want the best for William, but only You know what the best could be for him. Please give us the wisdom to encourage, support him, and understand what he needs. Amen.”

  Robert didn’t release my hand for a moment. “Louisa, I—”

  Quickly, I interrupted him and pulled my hand back. “It’s all right, Robert. I forgive you for being so abominably rude to me earlier.”

  He looked at me for a long minute without expression, then turned the keys in the ignition and backed up the Hudson, heading toward home.

  It was not lost on me that when I interrupted him, he might have had something else on his mind besides apologizing for saying I could drive a body barmy.

  * * * *

  Friday came too soon—cold and sunny. We left early to arrive in time for our ten o’clock appointment. Miss Gordon stood on the porch, Dog sitting dutifully beside her as sentry guard. She waved good-bye, a mournful look on her face. I felt sad, too, as the car backed out of the driveway.

  “Stop looking so woebegone, Louisa. We’re just going to check it out. That’s all,” Robert gently chided.

  As we drove along the two-lane highway towards Tucson, I stared at the scenery, lost in reflection about the car ride last February when Robert had picked me up at the train station. I remembered feeling so disappointed with the arid and bone-dry landscape.

  On that first car ride, I looked at the harsh rocks and saw only a rusty red color. Now, scarcely ten months later, I could see hues of color and even identify the rock formations. It was as if I put on a pair of new glasses after seeing through an old, outdated pair. The colors were clear and vivid. Shires, buttes, and sheer rock walls shimmered with shades of beige, ocher, salmon and scarlet.

  The Southwestern School for the Deaf was situated on a beautiful, expansive campus. We went up to the Administration building and found the principal’s office. The receptionist greeted us warmly. “Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, we’ve been expecting you. And this must be William?” she asked.

  Robert and I both interrupted each other, trying to correct the receptionist’s impression that we were married.

  She didn’t bother with us; her eyes were on William. “I’m going to take William for a tour and have him meet a teacher who will do a little testing with him while you and your wife meet with the principal.” She spoke slowly and directly to William, asking him if he’d like to go with her. He watched her lips intently and then nodded enthusiastically. Then she led us into the principal’s office.

  “Mrs. Powell, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are here to meet you.” The receptionist turned and took William by the hand, leading him out the door.

  We both watched him leave, feeling protective, but he never even turned back to wave good-bye.

  A portly woman stood up to greet us. “You must be Reverend Gordon
. We spoke on the phone a few days ago.” She shook Robert’s hand and then reached out to shake my hand. “And you must be Mrs. Gordon.”

  “No, no. I’m Louisa Schmetterling. I’m Reverend Gordon’s houseguest.”

  “Oh,” she said, flatly, and then asked us to sit down. “Do you know much about this school?”

  We shook our heads.

  “Well, the school was founded in 1912 when Arizona became a state. Most of our students live close to Tucson and are able to attend the school as a day school. We do have residence halls available for children who don’t live nearby.”

  “Do children as young as William attend the boarding school? He just turned five,” I asked, hoping she would say “no.”

  “Yes, they do. And most of those students go home each weekend.”

  At least we could see him on weekends.

  “Most parents worry that their children will have trouble adjusting to boarding school, but the kids seem to do just fine,” she reassured us.

  “It’s just that…it would be like a candle flame has gone out for us at home,” I said.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly,” Robert added, nodding in agreement.

  The principal turned to look at me, thoughtful for a moment. “I’m sorry. Did you say you were just visiting the Gordons?”

  I nodded.

  “On a vacation?”

  “She’s our houseguest,” Robert explained. “A long-term houseguest.”

  The principal’s eyes shifted from Robert, to me, back to Robert then she got back to the business at hand. She asked us questions about William and was curious to hear about the correspondence course from the John Tracy Clinic.

  “How did you find out about the clinic? It just began last year. Hardly anyone knows about it yet, but I’ve already heard very good things about the coursework.”

  “My houseguest has an extraordinary talent for researching information,” Robert said, arching his eyebrows. Then, he described how we’d been working on oral communication.

  “And the whole family is learning, too?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’re working on it. Louisa has placed paper pictures all over the house to help remind us to practice sound-to-object association with William. Even in the car.”

  “Excellent! We believe in complete family involvement.” She paused and looked straight at Robert. “Reverend Gordon, how fortunate you are to have such a helpful houseguest. My houseguests eat my food and use up my hot water and toilet tissue.”

  Chin to my chest, I tried to hide a self-satisfied smile.

  “May I ask why you’ve come to us today?” she asked.

  I looked at Robert to answer that question. I still wasn’t sure why we were here.

  “I know there are different schools of thought about how to help a deaf child communicate. I…we have chosen to try oral communication, and we…well, Louisa, actually, has had wonderful results. But we’re…I’m…concerned William might be missing something.”

  “I can appreciate your concern. This school believes in ‘total communication.’ That means that what you’re doing now with William is perfectly appropriate, and when he comes of school age, he can learn sign language. Most of our students come to us without any sign language ability. And most do need to be in a sign language environment to gain fluency. It would be extremely difficult for him to learn it at home, without any fluent signers nearby.” She described the academic and life skill goals of the school.

  We listened carefully to her, asking questions, finding answers to concerns. An hour flew by. Then the receptionist interrupted us to take us on a tour of the grounds. We were able to see the residence halls, the gymnasium, the cafeteria, and to observe a few classrooms. When we went back to the principal’s office, William was seated beside her. She was asking him questions and, with great concentration, he tried to respond to her.

  “You’re back. So soon!” she said with a smile when she saw us standing there, watching them. “Please sit down. Let’s have a little talk before you leave.”

  We sat down in chairs facing her desk. I thought it was interesting that William stayed seated next to Mrs. Powell rather than coming to sit on Robert’s or my lap as I would have expected. He was obviously comfortable here.

  “Well, Reverend Gordon, to be perfectly honest, with the enriched home environment William has obviously benefited from, you could wait a few years to enroll him as a boarding student.”

  “I’m just concerned he might need more professional instruction than we can give to him,” Robert said.

  “Relax, Reverend Gordon. So far, you’re doing a fine job. He is a bright boy. I can imagine you’re all barely staying just a step ahead of him. But I understood him when I asked him a question.”

  I took a sharp breath. “You understood him? You really did?”

  “I really did.”

  I looked over at Robert, who had already pulled out his handkerchief, mopping his eyes.

  Mrs. Powell smiled, understanding. “I have an idea. One of our best teachers just retired and moved to Bisbee. Mrs. Violet Morgan. She’s trained in speech therapy. What would you think about meeting with her a few times a month just to have a checkpoint? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind at all. Trust me, on a teacher’s pension, I’m sure she could use the income from tutoring. It might give you peace of mind that you’re on the right track or answer any questions you might have.”

  We took down the Bisbee teacher’s name and address and shook the principal’s hand as we said goodbye.

  “Before you go,” she said, “if you have time, we’d like to invite you to eat lunch at the school cafeteria. I think you’ll find it to be an interesting experience. Food’s not bad, either.”

  We walked over to the school cafeteria, holding William’s hands between us. The principal was right. It was fascinating to watch animated children, eating their lunches, talking to each other in sign language.

  William’s face was a sight to behold. He couldn’t stop watching the children interacting with each other. For one of the first times in his life, around a group of children, I think he felt he belonged. Always before, even in his father’s church, he was an outsider.

  The car ride back to Copper Springs felt like a gray cloud looming over our heads had dissipated. “William, did you like the school?” I asked.

  “Good,” he answered, nodding his head. Soon, he leaned against the car door, eyes struggling to stay open, tired after such a full morning.

  Thank you, Lord, for answering our prayer so clearly, I prayed as I watched him fall asleep.

  When we arrived back in Copper Springs, Dog was sprawled out on the front porch. As soon as Dog saw the Hudson pull into the driveway, he barked and raced out to the car to greet us. William woke up and scrambled out to play with him. As I reached for the door handle, Robert said, “Louisa, wait one moment. I wanted to say…”

  “It’s all right, Robert.”

  He sighed. “Do you realize that this is the third time in one week that I have tried to apologize to you and you have interrupted me? Could you please let a man finish a complete sentence?”

  I turned toward him, a little surprised by his exasperated tone.

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry I doubted your ability to teach William. I’m sorry I let Mueller get under my skin. And I’m very appreciative of the help you’ve given to my son.”

  I waited. “Finished?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I think you were right.”

  “Excuse me?” Robert said, stunned.

  “I said I think you were right.”

  “Would you mind repeating that?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “So what was I so right about?”

  “I actually think it was a good thing for us to go see the school and have confidence that we’re doing things correctly for William. Just to be certain. It made me feel better to see it. It’s a good school. A very good school. The children are happy there. But…”


  He looked at me.

  “There will probably come a day when William should be there.”

  Turning back to face the dashboard, he said under his breath, “I know.” Then he turned back to me. “But not just yet.”

  Chapter Nine

  Later that week, Ernest came over to the house one morning to deliver a telegram. It was from Ada, a cousin of the Gordons’, with news that her husband had passed away suddenly and she needed Martha to come to Phoenix immediately. Miss Gordon promptly packed up, Robert took her to meet the afternoon train in Tucson, and instantly, the house’s spirits lifted.

  For the first time, I was allowed to use the kitchen without asking permission. I cooked my first meal for William and Robert. It was a complete disaster. The meat tasted like cardboard. William spit it out and jumped up to make himself a peanut butter, banana, and potato chip sandwich. Robert was gallant enough to try to eat it, chewed the meat-turned-leather for a few minutes, and finally gave up.

  ”I’m sorry,” I said. “I really don’t know how to cook. I never learned. Father and I ate out or took sack lunches because he worked in the evenings.” I felt more than a little guilty. Meat was rationed; it felt like a crime to waste it.

  Robert only laughed. “Finally! Something you don’t excel in.” He got up and looked in the cupboard. He pulled out a blue box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. It was a fairly new product that made a big hit as a substitute for meat and dairy products. And best of all, two boxes required only one rationing coupon.

  Typically, Miss Gordon jumped up as the last bite was eaten and started cleaning up the dishes. In her absence, we lingered at the table. After dinner, Robert played the guitar, and I played the piano. I showed William how to feel the vibration of the strings when I hit a piano key.

  I tucked William into bed, turned to say good night, and noticed a framed picture of his mother had been placed on his bureau. Nice touch, Robert, I thought to myself. William pointed to the picture and said, “Girl.” It sounded like “grrrr.”