I slipped into the schoolroom early, avoiding the other students out front. It was Valentine's day and never once in all my 18 years had I gotten a candy or a little card or even a home-made note. All the other girls had, even some of the younger ones. This was my last year at school, only a few months left and I wasn't going to be upset to see it behind me. I had friends, of course, but no fella.
I went to sit in my desk that I shared with Lizzie and paused. There was a brown paper heart painted beautifully with a wreath of flowers and an inscription. 'She walks in beauty, like the night'. My favorite poem! For a moment, I thought it must be for Lizzie, but along the bottom, my name was written. 'Cassandra'.
I picked it up and looked it over again, then turned it, my cheeks burning as I bit my lip, trying not to smile. There was no other name on it, no saying who it was from, but it was beautiful. And whoever did it, knew me well. My favorite poem, lilacs in the wreath, my favorites, and little bees. I was always teased because bees would come and light on me and never sting me and I secretly loved it. It was perfect.
I looked around, then up at the teacher. "Sir? Was someone in here this morning?"
"I was the first one here this morning, Cass," he answered, not looking up. "You are the second."
"What about yesterday? Did someone stay after? Or come back?"
"You all left at the same time, so far as I am aware," he answered, looking up from his book. He looked at the card, then up at me.
I quickly put it down and set my books down, not wanting him to confiscate it from me. I sat down and tried to think it through.
There were four boys in my class who were my age, but none of them really spoke to me. Peter Hubert was a tall, skinny boy with a squint and freckles, but his handwriting was horrible. He couldn't have painted such a lovely card. Ephram Doughtry was a stocky boy with mousy hair and small eyes. The spelling was too good for it to have been him. Dewitt Hirsch was a very average boy with a prominent nose, but a smile that could make you forgive it. His brown eyes always sparkled with laughter when he joked with his friends. Jack Rafferty was the other. Tall, broad shouldered with black hair and stunning blue eyes. He had a dimple when he smiled and his eyes shone. For a long time, I had liked him. Of the four boys, he was the only one who paid any attention to me or spoke to me at all, and it was only to tease me and make fun of me. I suspected he wouldn't speak to me at all either if we didn't happen to walk the same way home from school every Friday. He went to stay with his aunt on Friday nights into Saturday, to help her by cutting wood for her and doing other chores. He had been for the last three years after her husband had broken his leg so badly and could no longer walk.
Truthfully, I couldn't imagine any of the four boys making something so lovely. I did secretly hope that it was Jack, though. I smiled down at the heart as I ran my thumb over the paint, feeling giddy.
I had finally gotten my first valentine!
Lizzie sat down next to me and I quickly covered it as I turned to her with a smile.
"Hi Cass!" she said happily. "I didn't see you come in?"
"You were talking to Ephram," I answered, blushing.
She giggled. "He gave me a bag of peppermints, same as last year. Want one?"
"No thank you," I answered, looking over my shoulder as everyone was coming in and sitting down. I glanced at each of the boys in turn, but none of them were looking in my direction.
I looked again after they were all sat down, Dew in the desk right next to ours with Jack sitting on the other side of him sharing a desk. Dew was facing Jack and Jack looked passed him to me, then made a face at me. I faced the front, scowling.
I spent the day wondering which of them it was and trying to ask the other girls if anyone had said anything without coming right out and asking if someone had said anything. I didn't show anyone the card.
By the end of the day, I still had no idea who might have sent it. I stayed behind after class, picking up my things slowly, not wanting to be out front while the others were all gathered around and talking. Flirting.
I tucked the card into my book after looking at it again, then looked back up at the teacher who was erasing the board.
"Mr Whittier?"
"Yes, Cass?" he asked, turning to face me.
"You are sure no one was in this morning? Or last night?"
"No one but me."
"Thank you," I answered, turning towards the door.
"Cass. No one but me."
I looked back at him, confused. Had he thought I had not heard him? "Thank you sir," I said more loudly.
"Cassandra. No one but me," he said very pointedly.
I turned again, then it hit me. Him. He had made the card. I stared at him, my eyes wide as my heart hammered in my chest. Sterling Whittier was a diminutive man. Handsome in a stern and crisp way, always very severely combed and dressed. Mostly, he was teased behind his back for being so small. Some people even said he was a dandy. He was still larger than me, his 5'4" topping my 4'10" by a fair margin, but I had still always thought of him as short, no matter how small I was.
"I..." I stammered, not knowing what to say or do now. "I... thank you Mr Whittier!" I yelled as I spun and raced out of the classroom. I ran all the way to the edge of town to the road that I walked to reach my farm. I slowed and pulled the card out, looking down at it.
Of course. It was so elegant and crisp and well done. That explained everything. I scowled down at it, a little dejected. Why couldn't it have been one of the boys? What was wrong with me?
"What's this then?" Jack asked, plucking the card out of my hand to look at.
"Give that back!" I demanded, trying to snatch it.
"Did you make yourself a valentine to try and pretend someone gave it to you?" he asked, laughing.
"No! Give it back!"
"It looks like a girl made it!" he laughed, holding it out of my reach.
"Jack, you aren't funny! Give it back! Actually, don't. I don't care, I don't want it," I said, my face burning with shame. I would die if the others found out Mr Whittier had intentions towards me.
I turned and hurried ahead.
"Here," Jack said quickly, catching up to me and putting it on top of my books. "Who's it from?"
"Do you see a signature?"
"You have no ideas?"
"What do you care?"
"It's not from me."
"I know."
"Or Dew, or Eph or Pete."
"I know. Wait. How do you know it's not from any of them?"
He shrugged. "So if you know it's not from them, you know who it's from," he countered.
"Did they specifically say to you that they didn't give me a card, or are you just assuming because you have all treated me so badly for so long?"
"Who treats you bad?" he demanded, anger touching his voice. "We never treat you bad!"
"You are always teasing me and making fun of me! And none of them even acknowledge I exist. You all hate me for whatever reason."
"You really think that?"
"I know that."
"You know... Aunt Mercy is going to be moving into town come summer, her and Uncle Lowell."
"I had heard," I answered, wondering about the change in subject.
"You know why the others don't speak to you?"