Double Blind. Hannah Alexander

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      Canaan stepped through the large room he’d occupied far too much in the past few weeks—the principal’s office. When he was a student here, it was the one place all the children dreaded to go. That hadn’t changed for him. In fact, he’d learned that the principal hated disciplining the child more than the child hated to be disciplined.

      Or, at least, this principal hated it. He was not principal material. When his grandfather had asked him to fill this position on an emergency basis, the teachers and other staff had promised to help him with the load. Now he was afraid to ask for help. Whom could he trust?

      He entered the clinic, where he’d spent many nights lately, often falling asleep at the desk in the corner. Sinking into the well-used chair, he turned his attention to the bank of file cabinets, where patient records dating back to the founding of the school thirty years ago were waiting for him to study.

      And study them he must, as soon as he found time.

      People in these parts, including the staff, believed Canaan’s grandfather, Johnny Jacobs, to be a wealthy man. After all, he’d spared no expense on the new buildings last year, especially the clinic, which was, in truth, a very modern medical station, with excellent technical capabilities. The equipment had all been donated by Arizona hospitals, but Johnny made sure that everything was in good working order.

      What few people knew was that Granddad had sunk his whole fortune in Twin Mesas and three other mission schools around the state, with just enough generated income to meet the payroll at each school. He also accepted donations from several benefactors who had supported his goals for educating Navajo children from the start. He kept careful records, which he shared with the other contributors.

      It was the principal’s job at each school to make an annual report. Bob Jaffrey had done the preliminary work for Twin Mesas this year, but it was up to Canaan to complete it. He looked at a stack of files piled on a corner of the desk and sighed—yet another task he didn’t feel capable of performing.

      Canaan loved and respected his grandfather. He would do anything to help him and this school. The problem was that Canaan had almost reached his limit.

      When he’d first discovered Sheila was coming, he’d been hopeful. Hard on the heels of that hope, he’d recalled the trouble Sheila had endured here at the time of her mother’s death. He would never forget the haunted child she’d become before her father took her away. No one had seen her pain as Canaan had.

      Because of this knowledge, he’d argued with his grandfather about this choice. He’d also argued with Doc Cottonwood, who thought Sheila’s arrival would be reason for celebration.

      Johnny Jacobs was not a man easily swayed, or he’d have given up on his dreams for his Navajo friends years ago. He was sold on Sheila’s qualifications, and Canaan hadn’t been able to talk him out of her coming.

      After all, as Granddad had emphasized, Sheila was grown now: her traumatic experiences were long behind her. He believed she could handle returning, and that she was familiar enough with their ways that she would be an excellent fit with the schoolchildren she would be helping.

      Judging by today, however, Canaan had even more doubts that she’d be able to carry out what needed doing—the blood testing, the physicals. He knew she could perform the tasks, but would she be able to win over the sometimes skeptical children and staff?

      Tanya’s reaction concerned him. And Tanya wouldn’t be the only one to resist Sheila’s presence.

      He would have to wait and see.

       Chapter Seven

       P reston shoved his cell phone into the front pocket of his shirt as Blaze walked up the hill toward the house, with a child holding on to each hand. СКАЧАТЬ