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

water.
    “You know,”
continued Mr. Kinner, “for the special choir. You do still want to be a part of
it?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
    Grace commanded
her mouth to close, her tongue to moisten her lips again, and her vocal chords
to work. “Yes, sir,” she replied, gaining courage. “I do.”
    He gave a little
smile. “Good. Here you go, then.” He held the permission slip out to her again,
and Grace moved up the aisle to grasp it. Once it reached her hands, she
clasped it against her chest. She wasn’t able to contain the grin that broke
through all her nervousness and shame, so she let it fall on Mr. Kinner before
rushing out the door.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    G eoff gathered up
the last of his papers, neatened the pile by giving it a crisp knock on the
desk, and tucked it away into his satchel. The room was quiet now. He felt the
heavy silence gathering around him as he finished the final tasks of the school
day. He straightened the row of seven pencils on his desk, kept ready for
forgetful students. He cleaned the chalkboard thoroughly, wiping every
remaining tinge of white from the dust-smoked surface, breathing in that dry
scent familiar to every teacher. It steadied him now. Kept his mind on the
necessary, everyday things. The things that mattered. Not the things that didn’t.
    Because they will
never be. His faith collapsed as he thought of the words Emmeline had laid before him two
nights ago: We will never have children of our own. Doctor Philips says that
I’m losing this baby as we speak.
    The clock’s face
drew Geoff’s eyes, an executioner to an unwilling victim. Two-forty-nine. Emmeline
would expect him home any time. And he would leave the school soon. But first,
he must prepare himself, for he would not – he could not – enter their home
with this bitterness drawing new patterns across his face. He could not fail
her now; Geoff would get it together before his feet crossed the threshold.
    Even if my own
heart breaks, Emmeline must never know it. She must believe – he must make her believe – that it didn’t matter to him if she lost this baby. If she could
never carry a baby to full-term. That his only concern was for her health.
    Geoff’s dazed
eyes found a piece of chalk that had rolled away beneath his desk. Another
excuse to delay just a moment longer. He knelt, welcoming the marble-cold feel
of the tile as evidence that the present was indeed real. Once Geoff knelt on
the floor, the piece of chalk no longer stood in his line of sight, but his
fingers found it readily enough with a little fumbling. They closed around it,
and he clambered to his feet again.
    But he couldn’t
find the chalk box; the night janitor must have moved it. The fool, he
thought, enjoying the unusual stinging pleasure of directing his pain toward
another, more innocent man. With no chalk box to be found, Geoff stood
clutching that solitary piece in one hand, staring out at the empty desks.
    In one more
minute, the detention bell rang. Breaking out of his trance, Geoff shook his
head and breathed deeply. Without hesitation, his fingers closed firmly around
the chalk-piece and bent. A snap sounded out, clear and loud. If anyone had
heard – but there was no one to hear in that empty schoolroom - the crack might
have reminded the hearer of a sparrow’s neck suddenly broken.
    Why, God? Why
this?
     
    G race took off
her shoes and socks as soon as her feet found their way off the main road and
onto the tree-lined path leading to Papa’s land. The September day had warmed
considerably since that morning, and her toes felt hot and cramped.
    Mama sat on the
back steps, her worn print skirt covering some of the places where the green
paint had chipped off the cement. Her auburn hair wisped around her face in
sweaty tendrils, and she’d rolled the long sleeves of her dress way up above
her elbows. A dead chicken drooped over her lap; Grace shuddered, glad Mama had
strangled it before she’d gotten