The Moonlight School by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Author:Suzanne Woods Fisher [Fisher, Suzanne Woods]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;Appalachian Region—Fiction;FIC042030;FIC042040;FIC027000
ISBN: 9781493428588
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2020-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

FIRST THING ON MONDAY MORNING, Lucy told Cora everything about the weekend, including the uncomfortable conversation with her father. He’d been cool and distant when she said goodbye at the train station the next day. Still, she didn’t regret bringing the topic of those dishonorable lumber contracts to his attention.

“Tell me what he said again?”

“He said that you’re partly to blame. That it’s your job to educate these people.”

Cora frowned. “He can’t expect me to wave a magic wand so that everyone is suddenly able to read. It will take a generation to change that.” She stood and walked toward the window.

“What bothers me most is the way Father lumps mountain people together, as if they’re all dumb and lazy and deserve what they get.”

Cora turned to Lucy. “Don’t be too hard on your father. He’s a tough businessman, but he’s not a dishonest one. And as much as he tries to hide it, he has a soft heart.”

“Does he? I’m not always so sure.”

“Trust me on that. I think your conversation with him will nettle him. Good will come out of it. Eventually.” She sat down at her desk. “So Wyatt came to the cemetery during the service for Charlotte?”

“How did you hear that?”

“I was able to attend the singing school yesterday afternoon. He told me he’d been in Lexington.”

“Yes, but he didn’t say why, only that he had a meeting.” She hoped Cora might elaborate, but she volunteered nothing more. Lucy felt again that nagging suspicion that Wyatt had come to Lexington only because he was concerned about her. Pity was not what she wanted from him. Not from anyone.

Cora studied her for a moment, then said, “Wyatt is a fine man. None finer, in my opinion.” She said it with the emphasis on fine, as if comparing him to someone else.

Lucy knew little of Cora’s ex-husbands, but she did know that the first one was an alcoholic, and the second one—whom Cora remarried and divorced again the following month—was abusive.

“Five, six years ago, when I returned to Rowan County, I was at a school function, and a tall mountain lad stepped up to sing one of the most beautiful pieces of mountain music I’ve ever heard. It was astonishing. His deep voice, the lyrical words. Afterward, I went up to the young man and asked for a copy of the song. I told him it was worth publishing. He said he’d had hundreds of such songs, all in his head, but was unable to write down a single one because he could neither write nor read.”

“How old was he? Why hadn’t he gone to school?”

“He was probably about Finley James’s age. Fifteen or sixteen. And his story was not unique, Lucy. Getting to school just wasn’t possible for a boy needed on the farm.” She leaned back in her chair. “So I found a sponsor to provide schooling for him at a boarding school in Louisville. One in which music was encouraged.”

Puzzle pieces started floating into place. Lucy’s eyes went wide.

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