A Most Unusual Passage
Copyright© 2026 by J&J
Chapter 46
Martha and Mom had gotten up early to surprise us all with a very elegant breakfast consisting of eggs Benedict, Dad’s favorite and fresh melon, purchased from a farmer’s roadside stand. As we sat chatting over our coffee, I remembered my phone message from the previous evening. “I think I should return Janice Grant’s phone call from yesterday.”
“Janice Grant,” said Dad, “Now that name sounds familiar, but I can’t place her for the world.” “I think that means that your memory’s not what it used to be, Dad, because you have met her and on more than one occasion. Dr. Janice Grant is the headmistress at Edisto Hall School for Girls and has been for about 15 years.”
“I do remember her; a handsome distinguished looking woman, smart as a whip and tough as old shoe leather. So tell me, Elizabeth, why would the headmistress of Edisto Hall be calling you?”
“Haven’t a clue. I haven’t spoken to Janice in years. But we will know soon enough. She asked me to call her back early this morning; most likely to catch her before class. If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll go call her and find out.”
I dialed the number from the message and recognized her crisp, no nonsense voice. Somehow, she sounded older than I remembered.
“Hello, Ms. Grant. This is Elizabeth Manigault; I’m returning your call from yesterday.” “Oh yes, Elizabeth, how nice of you to call me back so promptly. And what a stroke of luck that you just happened to be in town this week. So tell me, how is your Western adventure going?”
“It’s going very well; certainly there’s never been a dull moment, but it’s nice to be home also. I was very surprised to get your message, Ms. Grant. Would you mind if I ask what it’s in reference to?”
“Well first, I do insist on your calling me ‘Janice.’ I admit to being a number of years your senior, but now we are both principals. As far as an explanation, I would much prefer that we talk face-to-face.” “I understand,” I said, although in fact, I did not. “I can come this morning, if you wish. Shall I come by your office at the school?”
“This morning would be absolutely perfect, only I won’t be at school. I’m somewhat indisposed, but it’s nothing that will keep us from enjoying a nice meeting. Just come to 3870 Leeds Avenue; I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again.”
I wrote the address down on the pad by the telephone and then returned to the breakfast table. Before I could take my seat, my dad asked, “So what’s up? I’m dying of curiosity.”
I laughed, “Well then, I guess you’re a goner, Dad, because she wouldn’t tell me over the telephone.” “Maybe she wants to offer you a job,” Mom said.
“I seriously doubt that. The only job I would be remotely interested in at that school would be hers, and she’s not about to step down.”
“You never know,” said Mom. “Maybe she decided to retire early.”
“Not this early; she’s not that much older than me. Janice is probably in her mid-40s, so she is a long way away from a pension and a gold watch.”
“What else do you think it could be?” Dad asked.
“You’re both getting carried away. She probably just wants to ask me about some teachers she’s considering hiring. Or perhaps she has some new ideas for curriculum that she’d like to discuss. In any case you won’t have to speculate for long; I’m going to see her this morning.”
“That’ll be fine,” Mom said. “We’ll just postpone going to Middleton Gardens until you get back.”
“No, no, y’all go ahead. I don’t know how long this will take, and I’ve been to Middleton a gazillion times. Marcus and Martha are only here for a few days. So go on ahead, and I’ll meet you for lunch.”
“That sounds good,” said Mom. “Let’s meet at the Med Deli around one o’clock.”
I took Dad’s old Jeep, so I could leave the cars for them. I have always loved driving the Jeep, especially on the beach, so it was a treat, although I hated arriving with my hair windblown. I drove carefully along Leeds Avenue, looking for the number she had given me, but when I found 3870, it was Hospice of Charleston. I thought there must be a mistake, but this was definitely the number she had given me; I even took the slip of paper out and double-checked. Janice was not one to be careless about such things. Hoping there had been a mistake; I went in and found the front desk staffed by a kindly-looking older lady.
“I beg your pardon,” I said. “I’m looking for Ms. Janice Grant.”
“Then you must be Ms. Manigault.” I nodded. “Please come with me; Janice has been expecting you.”
She escorted me to a bright, cheerful room, tastefully decorated with Charleston reproductions. Janice Grant was lying in bed, looking much thinner than I had last seen her. She also had the sallow, almost transparent skin of someone dying of cancer. I tried to get out a greeting, but I’m sure that my face and voice betrayed my shock.
“Hello, Elizabeth, I appreciate you coming so quickly. Cowboy life must agree with you; you look absolutely fabulous. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same about myself. I have, what they like to call here, a ‘life-limiting condition.’ In fact, I am dying from ovarian cancer; the doctors tell me it will be over in a few more weeks.”
“I am so sorry,” my voice hardly rising above a whisper; “I just don’t know what to say.”
Her voice took on the firm but gentle quality of a teacher instructing a child in an important but very difficult subject. “You just talk to me, Elizabeth, just like you used to do when we snuck out of those boring education conferences, because I am the same person. You don’t need to pussyfoot around my illness, because I have already made peace with my fate. I have been through denial, anger and bargaining, just like the books say, and I have reached acceptance. I am dealing with it much better than most of my friends. They want to sit there telling me that I’m going to be fine, or worse, they refuse to talk to me at all. The living are not comfortable around the dying, because it reminds them of their own mortality. They will take any excuse to avoid visiting.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “This is when you need your family and friends by your side. And all those students over the years; surely they must remember you.”
She swept her hand around the room, indicating the handful of cards and flowers. “If they do, they are remarkably quiet about it. I truly believe that the hardest part of dying is the terrible isolation and loneliness. We are cast out from the world of the living, as though we were already gone. So for God’s sake, Elizabeth, just speak to me as Janice Grant, your colleague, not Janice Grant, the pathetic dying woman.”
“I’m sorry, Janice; I did not know that was how things are. I will do my very best.” I paused to get a tighter rein on my emotions and start again. “I was rather surprised to hear from you; please tell me what this is all about, and how I can help.”
“I’m sure you are curious, and we will get to that in due course. I am going to ask you to indulge me first, by telling me all about your experiences out west. It is important to me, and I would like to hear every detail.”
I had absolutely no idea why she would need or want to know about my adventures and misadventures in Colorado, but I also did not see how I could possibly refuse her under the circumstances. For the next 90 minutes, I gave her as complete a history as my memory permitted. She listened intently, interrupting from time to time with questions. She was particularly interested in my story about Marcus’ injury and how most of the community drove 40 miles to hold an all-night vigil in the parking lot, just to get news of his condition.
I told her about dealing with Everett, the air-conditioning crisis and our young poet ... I told her all the things I had learned from Marcus about being a principal, as well as his helping me to understand the area. I also told her about some of the wisdom I had gained from Martha. I even told her about meeting the man who I thought might become the love of my life. She was also very interested in my efforts to come to terms with the region and its special challenges.
When I finished, she didn’t speak but lay back with her eyes closed until, thinking she had fallen asleep, I started to leave the room. But she sat up and looked at me.
“You have certainly had an adventure, and I envy you. I’m sure Otis would prove rewarding for you as a young principal. I am also sure that they have chosen wisely. It is almost a shame you won’t be returning to complete your saga.”
“Of course I’ll be returning to Otis. I have signed a contract which I have every intention of fulfilling. Why would you think I would not be returning?”
“Because of me,” she said confidently. “Because I am going to make you an offer you cannot refuse.” Finally the nickel dropped, and I saw clearly why she had summoned me. I was about to be offered the very position I had dreamed about my entire career, and it was going to break my heart to have to refuse it. I would almost prefer to have never heard her next words.
“The Board of Visitors has done me the honor of allowing me to choose my own successor. And Elizabeth Manigault, I have chosen you. All you have to do is say yes, and you will be the new headmistress of Edisto Hall.”
“You know I cannot say yes; I have already signed a contract for next year, and I have every intention of fulfilling it.”
“Don’t be absurd; it’s a business document, not a sacred vow. It’s a well-known principle that if you receive a new offer significantly better in terms of salary and benefits, you cannot be held to a contract, if they are not willing or able to substantially meet the new offer. We are prepared to offer you a salary that’s more than twice what you’re making now. No one would expect you to honor the other contract under those conditions.”
“And if they’re not willing to release me?”
“Then you break the contract; people do it all the time. They can’t possibly do anything to you. No one would ever hold it against you for taking a position that offers so much more in terms of salary and prestige.”
“I’m not worried about what they might do to me; I doubt that they would do anything at all. It’s just a matter of my personal values and the way I was raised. You fulfill promises and obligations no matter what. As my dad always put it, ‘you should dance with the one who brung you.’”