Double Blind. Hannah Alexander

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      “It’s been a long time,” Sheila said.

      Betsy studied Sheila more closely. “You’ve always looked like Evelyn.” She explained to Canaan, “Sheila’s mother.”

      “I know,” Canaan said dryly. “I was here, too, remember?”

      Before they could talk further, a group—Sheila guessed they were teachers—entered the cafeteria, talking and laughing as energetically as students…until they saw Sheila.

      Silence descended, amusement disappeared and the expressions on various faces ranged from curiosity to resentment.

      For the first time, Sheila became aware of the paleness of her skin. It felt strange. She couldn’t remember ever feeling out of place at this school when she was a little girl. Always, when she’d been here, she had belonged.

      Canaan touched her arm and addressed the new arrivals. “Come and meet Sheila Metcalf, the nurse Johnny Jacobs has hired to help me in the clinic. She and I attended school together here when we were children, which means she’s one of us.”

      Sheila felt only slightly relieved when a few of the expressions lightened. One heavyset woman who had passed them earlier with a group of children stepped forward and picked up her tray, interest sharpening her delicate features.

      “I hear you’re going to examine my kids,” she said, selecting her silverware. “I have first-and second-grade girls.”

      “This is Jane Witherbe,” Canaan told Sheila, putting an arm on the woman’s shoulder. “She’s been a teacher and dorm mother here for a lot of years.”

      Jane nodded, dark eyes friendly, and the smile revealed she was older than she first appeared. “I remember you, Sheila. My first year here was—” the smile disappeared “—it was the year you left.”

      “You’ll like her kids,” Canaan said smoothly. “They’re well behaved.”

      Another of the women spoke up. “They’re all good kids. They mind their teachers and dorm parents.”

      One of the men snorted, his expression still grim, his gaze most unwelcoming as he studied Sheila’s face. “That’s because they’re all Dineh. ”

      Sheila knew that word. It was what the Navajo called themselves. It meant The People. The man looked familiar, and for a moment Sheila held his dark gaze. She remembered his name without having to be told. Kai Begay. He’d been a teacher-parent when Sheila had lived here. But he hadn’t been unfriendly then, had he?

      “Sheila was with us for several years, Kai,” Canaan said. “You should remember her, since you were here at the time her parents came. Her mother was our nurse, and her father helped the local farmers to utilize their land more efficiently.”

      Kai Begay’s chin came up as he met Canaan’s gaze and held it for a moment. Canaan returned the look. Kai cleared his throat and looked away.

      Something relaxed inside Sheila. Canaan might not feel as if he would make a good principal, but he was obviously making an effort to retain control of the staff, no matter how unpopular that might make him.

      Betsy Two Horses returned her attention to the steam table in front of her.

      As the talk increased and the tension eased, Sheila pushed her tray along the counter.

      Betsy gave her a quick once-over. “You’re starving yourself,” she said, her voice brusque as always, but her eyes still warm.

      “I’ve actually gained some weight,” Sheila told her.

      “Well, gain some more.” Betsy held up a ladle of stew. “Mutton.” Her dark eyes gleamed with the barest touch of humor. “Your favorite.”

      Sheila nodded and enjoyed the look of surprise on Betsy’s face. She’d never developed a taste for the stew as a child, and she’d been teased about it a few times. But who was to say her tastes hadn’t changed in twenty-four years?

      When Canaan turned with his tray toward a far table, Sheila glanced at Betsy wistfully. When the glass door opened and more people entered, Sheila turned away and wove between the tables to where Canaan waited. Later. She and her old friend would have time to become reacquainted soon.

      In spite of what she’d told Canaan, Sheila had no appetite. In fact, she hadn’t felt hungry all week. Now, as she glanced into the bowl of thick stew, nausea bubbled in her stomach. The reaction of the dorm parents, especially Kai Begay, concerned her. It didn’t help that she felt as if time had shifted, as if she were a child again.

      Canaan held her chair out for her.

      He sat down after she did. He bowed his head, said a brief prayer softly, as if to himself, then tore off a corner of his bread and dipped it in his stew.

      “Fry bread?” Sheila asked. “I didn’t see that.”

      He chewed, swallowed. “You were so busy watching Betsy, you pushed your tray right past it. She was always good with us kids, wasn’t she?”

      Sheila nodded, fingering the cross at her throat. “She gave me this.” She glanced toward the serving line, where Betsy was greeting incoming diners with a quick word or nod.

      “That necklace?” Canaan bent forward and examined it more closely. “Did she make it?”

      “No, her husband made it for her a few years before he died. She gave it to me after my mother died.”

      “It’s skillfully made. Do you wear it often?”

      Sheila nodded. “Almost all the time when I was growing up. Every time I touched it, I could remember that someone loved me enough to give me something that meant a lot to her. She told me that she had worn it constantly after her husband’s death, until her fear of life went away and she no longer felt alone.”

      “Do you still feel alone?”

      She gave him a wry look. “I’m thirty-four years old, I have plenty of friends in Hideaway, my father is whole and healthy and Preston…” She smiled.

      “Yes? Preston…?”

      “A good friend.”

      “Is that a euphemism for a person of consequence in your life?” Canaan asked.

      “Let’s just say my life is full and very interesting at the moment.”

      “Because of Preston?”

      Though Canaan watched her intently, she didn’t elaborate. Best not to get into a discussion about other difficulties in her life right now.

      Obviously curbing his curiosity, Canaan gestured toward the teachers and dorm parents who were making their way to a long table set apart from the children. “Most of the staff are warmhearted, good people. There will always be a certain percentage of people who have trouble accepting newcomers, no matter who they are, or what color.”

      “I’m no newcomer to Kai Begay,” Sheila reminded him. “He knew me when I was a child, and I don’t remember any resentment from him then. СКАЧАТЬ