A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(65)

This time she listened closely, noting with concern that Timothy seemed to have difficulty with fairly simple words. Had he truly had so little schooling for a boy of his age? He and his sister had attended school in New York, and Iris read easily at the same level as the other Third Readers, or better.

“That’s fine, Timothy. You may stop now.” She gave him a smile she hoped atoned for her sharpness. “Thomas, will you please read the last page?”

It was not the best choice on her part to leave young Dwyer for last—though he pronounced competently enough, the drone of his recitation might put anyone to sleep.

With gratitude she rang the bell at the end of the day, then gathered her own books to take home and prepare for tomorrow. She should ask Lark’s advice on what to do about the Kinsley family.

Turning from her desk, she paused to see Timothy O’Rourke still on his bench, studying his reader. His lips moved soundlessly, his face twitching every now and then as if with the effort to comprehend.

Del laid her books back on her desk and walked down the aisle. Easing into a bench nearby, she touched Timothy’s reader. “Did you get engrossed in the story?”

He jumped and slammed the book shut, his thin face flushing. “Sorry, miss. I’ll go.”

“You needn’t. I didn’t mean to startle you. And I wanted to apologize for speaking sharply earlier. I was frustrated over something else, not you.”

“But I’m a sad case at readin’, I know that.” Timothy traced the book’s gilt border with his finger. “The schoolmaster back home said I hadn’t the brain for it. Said no Irish did.”

“That’s not true.” Indignation crackled up Del’s spine. She’d like to tell that schoolmaster a thing or two. “Why, some wonderful writers have come out of Ireland. Have you ever read anything by Jonathan Swift?”

He shook his head, blue eyes wide.

“I’ll have to lend you a copy of Gulliver’s Travels—once you feel ready to read it. But for now, show me which words are giving you trouble.”

“Them that don’t follow the rules.” Timothy opened his reader again. “Some of ’em I can sound out well enough, if I take the time. But others get my mind all tied up in knots, and then I feel like an engine stuck on the tracks.”

“English is a cantankerous language, I admit. It doesn’t follow its own rules very well, not like French or German.” Del thought a moment. “Timothy, do you think your father could spare you a bit longer after school at times? Perhaps two or three days a week? I’d be glad to stay after and help you.”

“I’ll ask him.” If Timothy’s face could shine any brighter, he’d light up the church.

Del smiled. “We’ll get you caught up in no time.” At least she hoped so. She’d a notion Timothy’s brain might process language differently than others, but she’d no idea how to deal with that. Nor had she read anything about it in any of the meager teaching materials she’d been given. “What about your other subjects? You seem to do well on your sums. I’ve yet to find a mistake on your slate.”

“Oh, I’ve always been a good hand at figurin’. The sums you give are easy. I’d like some harder, if you have them.”

“Really?” Del raised a brow. “I’m afraid mathematics aren’t my forte, but I’ll dig into my books and see what I can do. Perhaps you can help me. But for now, you’d best get home before your parents think you’ve been carried off by a catamount.”

With another dazzling smile, Timothy snatched up his books and dinner pail and dashed out the door.

“Well, Father.” Del blew out a breath and pushed to her feet. “What have I gotten myself into?” Two missing children to track down, and now she’d pledged to give up even more of her too-limited time to help Timothy. But wasn’t that what her job was all about? And with interest like his, tutoring him would be more pleasure than burden. As long as she could find a way to help his mind and eyes better work together.

At least her appetite had returned. Del’s stomach grumbled as she gathered her books and headed out for her daily trek home across the prairie.

———

The next morning, Bethany came to school but still no John. Del held her tongue until recess, then laid her hand on Bethany’s shoulder just before the little girl hurried out the door.

“Bethany, where’s your brother today? I was worried about both of you when you were absent yesterday.”

“He’s all right, miss. Just feeling a mite poorly.” She kept her gaze down.

“Is it his leg? Or is he sick?”

“He’s, uh, sick.” The child wriggled under Del’s hand.

Del crouched to Bethany’s level. “I was wondering if I could come visit your family to see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

The little girl jerked her gaze up. “No, miss, please. Please don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s . . . our ma.” Bethany glanced away. “She’s poorly too, got a baby comin’ soon.”

“Has Dr. Brownsville been to see her?”

“Pa don’t hold with no doctors.” The child bit her lip as if she’d said too much. “Please, may I go out to play?”