A Touch of Autumn(3)

Charles headed across the room and touched Sonny’s arm, getting his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just tripped.” Sonny ducked his head. “May I go now, Mr. Charles?”

“Yes, of course. But, Sonny, if someone is picking on you, you need to let me know. Or one of the other teachers.”

“Yes, sir.” Sonny scooted across the room and up the stairs.

Charles sighed. Just like last year. The younger children were either afraid to report any bullying or didn’t want to be pegged as tattletales. And Jeremiah was too smart to be easily caught. Charles tightened his lips. This behavior had to be stopped right away. He had no intention of allowing the children to be miserable all year.

“Well, there he go again.” Virgie, the thin, elderly housekeeper who ran the household staff with a firm but gentle hand, patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry none, Mr. Charles. That boy just need someone to care about him. And I know you be the one who can do that.”

He gave her a tender smile and sighed. “I hope so, Virgie. I hope so.”

Her wrinkled, brown hand gave him another pat, then she walked toward the kitchen area.

Charles stepped out on the porch and leaned against one of the pillars. The vast lawn boasted a magnolia tree on each side of the walkway. He could almost smell the lemony fragrance they’d emitted during spring and early summer. But the blossoms were long gone. He inhaled, thankful for the breeze today.

But what could he do about Jeremiah? Maybe he and Livvy could put their heads together. She was Sonny’s Sunday school teacher and the child was one of her favorites.

But it was disappointing to see Jeremiah revert to his old ways. Virgie was right. Something must be troubling the boy to cause that sort of behavior. If only he could find a way to find out what that something was.





Chapter 2




Batter splashed over the rim of the cream-colored bowl and dripped down the side. Olivia gasped and quickly scraped the gooey chocolate back into the bowl. She’d done it again. Let her daydreams distract her. She took a deep breath. A lock of hair fell across her eyes and she used the back of her hand to swipe it out of the way.

“Livvy, dear, I think that cake is mixed enough. You’re going to beat too much air into it and ruin the texture.” Mama smiled. “Here, I’ll hold the pans steady while you pour.”

“Thanks, Mama.” She straightened and tried to focus on the simple task of pouring batter into cake pans.

Mama’s gentle spirit shone on her countenance as she sent a questioning look at her daughter. “What’s bothering you?”

“Oh, nothing, Mama.”

“Very well, Livvy, dear. But if you’d like to talk about it, you know I’m always willing to listen.” She glanced at Olivia. “Who knows? I may even have a little wisdom for you.”

Olivia bent over and placed the filled cake pans in the oven. When she straightened, she gave her mother what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Thank you, but I’m really perfectly fine. Nothing’s wrong at all.”

“Hmm.” A raised brow proved that Olivia wasn’t fooling her mother, but she nodded. “All right, then. Do you think we have enough baked goods for the picnic?” She glanced in the cupboard that stood against the back wall. Pies and cakes, covered with tea towels, lined the shelves, ready for the Labor Day picnic, just two days away.

Olivia smiled and laid her hand on her mother’s arm. “Mama, there are more than enough cakes and pies even if no one else makes anything. And we still have cookies to bake.”

Laughter pealed through Mama’s lips. “I do get carried away sometimes. I think we’ll have one of the pies for dessert tomorrow. Did you invite Charles for Sunday dinner?”

“No, I’m sure he’ll need to have dinner at the school. This is the students’ first Sunday back at school and some of the parents will stay over until Monday.”

“Oh, of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. Did he say whether all the students returned this year?”

“I haven’t seen him since last Sunday.” She wouldn’t see him as much now that school was starting. No more lazy afternoon walks. No more picnic lunches by the river. She bit her lip and focused her attention on what her mother was saying.

“I guess we’ll see for ourselves at church tomorrow.” Mama patted Olivia on the shoulder. “We’d better fix something for your father to eat for his supper before we bake the cookies.”

“Mama, why don’t you go to the parlor and put your feet up for a while. I’ll warm up the leftover stew. You’ve been working hard all day and it’s going to be late when we finish our baking.”