The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace Book 1) by Alicia G. Ruggieri Page A

Kinner crossed out the
ninety-two at the top of Paulie’s essay and wrote in his new grade: ninety-six.
“I’ll change your grade in my log as well,” he said, pocketing his pen once
more.
    “Thanks, Mr.
Kinner,” Paulie smiled. “I appreciate it.” He took the paper Mr. Kinner
proffered and tucked it into his leather school satchel, fastening the buckle
securely. With a nod to Grace and Ruth Ann, Paulie left the otherwise-empty
classroom, shutting the door behind him with a snappy click.
    Mr. Kinner
focused on the two girls. “Ah, Miss Picoletti and Miss Richards. The note
passers,” he commented, his voice void of humor but holding no anger. “Now,
girls, it’s the beginning of the year. I would like us all to start off on the
right foot.” Again, he forced a smile to his lips. “Passing notes has no place
in my class. While I like to encourage friendships inside and outside the
classroom, I don’t care for misuse of time. Which is what note-passing is when
the context is literature class. Do you understand?”
    Grace nodded
fervently. Ruth Ann replied, “Oh, yes, sir. We understand, don’t we, Grace?”
She turned wide-open blue eyes to Grace.
    Grace licked her
lips, desperate for moisture before croaking out, “Y-yes.”
    Mr. Kinner gave
a single nod, letting the smile drop off his face. “Alright, you may go.
There’s no further punishment this time for you two.”
    Ruth Ann broke
out into an exuberant grin, quite the alteration from her attitude of degraded
penitence just moments before. “Oh, thank you , Mr. Kinner, sir. And I
promise, we’ll never do it again, will we, Grace?” She looked to Grace for her
agreement, and Grace managed a weak bob of her head, her heart pounding with gratitude
for getting off so easily. But her eyes traveled to Mr. Kinner’s pocket, where
the note must still reside. Has he read it?
    Ruth Ann backed
away, still rewarding Mr. Kinner with her smile and forgetting Grace, who stood
unsure before the teacher. A moment more, and Grace’s schoolmate left the room
to Grace and Mr. Kinner, who tilted his head, evidently wondering why she
stayed. “Grace?” he asked. “Is there something else?”
    Grace swallowed.
Could she… Should she ask? The clock ticked loudly on the wall, mocking
her hesitation. But she counted five seconds and then made herself say, “Mr.
Kinner…”
    She could get no
farther, but he must have seen how her eyes moved to his pants pocket. A ghost
of his usual kind expression rested on his countenance. He drew out the folded
note. “Here you go,” he said, offering it to Grace. She took it, breathing a
sigh of relief when it left his hands and returned to hers. “I didn’t read it,”
Mr. Kinner added, turning toward his desk. He closed his thick teacher’s
edition of their literature book and shoved it into his own satchel.
    Grace couldn’t
reply; gratitude swelled her throat. Thank you, God, she silently
uttered a rare spontaneous prayer. If Mr. Kinner had ever read the things she
and Ruth Ann had written about his wife! And about him ! Grace felt her
knees turn to jelly just thinking about it now that it was over. She squeezed
the folded paper in her palm, destining it for the stove once she got home.
    Home! Suddenly,
her mind and feet began to work again. With a weak smile at Mr. Kinner, Grace
scrambled for the door, mentally cursing the rubber-band shoe that would flop.
    “Miss
Picoletti.”
    At Mr. Kinner’s
call, Grace stopped with her hand on the heavy knob. What now? Dread rose
again in her chest as she turned back to the teacher.
    But he merely
held out a sheet of mimeographed paper. “You dropped your permission slip the
other day.”
    Grace felt so
stunned she couldn’t reply. He still wanted her to be in his special choir, though
she passed notes in class? Though she had a shoe that flopped? Though she’d
fallen flat on her face in the auditorium before him? She froze, knowing her
mouth hung open like a fish out of