Ruth Axtell Morren - Wild Rose

She stared at the letters, willing her mind to concentrate. “Kuh…Kuh,” she repeated. “Uh…rr…ll.” Then she tried putting the sounds together as the captain was teaching her. “K-uh-r-l. Cuhrl. Curl!” She looked at him in triumph, meeting the look of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Good.” He wrote another word. “This should be familiar.”

She looked at the three-letter word. “D-d…” She took a stab at the vowel, “aw…guh. Dawg. Dog!”

“All right. Let’s try something harder.” Again he took the paper back and bent over it.

That night she took out the list of words and copied them out on a separate sheet of paper by the glow of her kerosene lamp. She wrote each one and read it over and over until she knew it perfectly. As she sat on the edge of her bed in her nightgown, she took one last look at the paper, smiling at the captain’s pencil drawings. A curl of hair, a little dragon, its spiked tail curved upward, a flame coming out of its mouth. She traced the drawings with her fingertip. An oblong circle for an egg, a squatting frog. Silently she mouthed the words, vowing she’d master each lesson, if it meant receiving the smile of approval the captain had given her this afternoon.

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