she careened out the door, she nearly collided with two girls in the hallway. Isabelle Rowley’s lessons on etiquette rose in her memory, and she automatically excused herself.
The pair looked Libby up and down before they exchanged a quick haughty look. The taller of the two said, “You need to slow down.”
“Or at the very least, look before you leave your room,” the second one added.
Libby folded her arms over her chest. “I said, ‘Excuse me.’ And it isn’t as if I tried to run you down. It was just bad timing.”
The taller one opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Maelle and Jackson stepped into the hallway. The girl snapped her mouth closed, took her companion by the elbow, and hustled toward the stairs.
Girls! She’d never gotten along well with other girls. They were too snooty or too prissy or too giggly. The condescending, scolding tones used by the girls in the hallway had sounded too much like the orphanage’s founder. How often had Mrs. Rowley berated Libby for escaping into a daydream or for unladylike tree-climbing or frog-catching? Libby had grown to love Mrs. Rowley, but she’d never felt completely accepted by her. Girls were no fun. Except Maelle.
Libby clasped her hands beneath her chin and gave Maelle her best pleading look. “Can’t I go back to Shay’s Ford with you and Jackson?”
Maelle’s brow crunched in confusion. “Why would you want to do that? You were so excited about attending the university.”
That was before I met Snoot One and Snoot Two. Libby caught Maelle’s arm. “If I’m too old to stay at the orphans’ school, I could get a job at the newspaper, or even work for you as your assistant.” She knew how to operate Maelle’s camera. She’d spent so much time in Maelle’s photography studio, it had become as much a home to her as her room in the orphanage dormitory.
“Libby, you know you wouldn’t be happy working in my studio.” Maelle spoke in a kind yet no-nonsense tone. “You’ve always wanted to be a writer. God must have opened this door for you, because you’re at the perfect place to learn the trade of journalism. Not every college in Missouri allows female students in their journalism programs, but here at the University of Southern Missouri, women can learn right next to men.”
Libby already knew she’d been given an amazing opportunity, even though she credited Mrs. Rowley’s letter-writing skills rather than God for securing the scholarship. How she’d looked forward to sitting under the tutelage of the fine professors, learning the best ways to put words together to impact readers’ emotions! But Maelle had learned photography by practice; surely Libby could learn newspaper writing through practice. “I know, but—”
“When God opens a door, you need to walk through it. Otherwise you’ll miss the blessing He has planned for you.” Maelle gently disengaged Libby’s hands from her arm. “Besides, my sister worked so hard to get these scholarships for you, Pete, and Bennett. Think how disappointed Isabelle would be if you just threw it away.”
Libby bit down on her lower lip. Mrs. Rowley had been almost giddy with excitement when a donor agreed to sponsor the orphan home’s first graduates—their consolation prize for never having been adopted. She’d lectured the three of them endlessly on making the most of this tremendous opportunity. No, Isabelle Rowley would not be happy to see Libby return to Shay’s Ford.
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
Jackson stepped forward. “It’s understandable for you to be apprehensive, Elisabet. This is a big change for you—leaving your home and meeting new people. When I left Shay’s Ford to attend law school, I suffered homesickness and wondered if I’d made the right choice. It took some time, but I settled in.”
Libby listened, rapt, to Jackson’s encouragement. Might a father speak to her in just this way?
He smiled, reaching out to give her upper arm a light squeeze. “So you wait and see. I wager in a month’s time, you’ll love being here so much you won’t want to leave even for a weekend visit.”
Libby’s mouth went dry. Not want to return, even for a visit? Might college make such a change in her? She swallowed. “Y-you really think so?”
Maelle gave a gentle tug on one of Libby’s loose curls. “You should never squander the chance for an education. Not everyone has that chance.”
Libby knew Maelle regretted her lack of schooling. She’d spent her childhood traveling from state to state in a photographer’s wagon, learning