Chapter 19

 

Monday

 

Then Christine drained her cup and stood up. “I should get out of your way. Ned will be home soon, won’t he?”

“Probably.”

“And you’ll want to share your news with him. Does he approve of the idea?”

“He lets me make my own decisions, but I think he’ll be happy for me. It’s a step in the right direction for both of us.”

“Would you take Ellie to meet the other kids?”

Abby considered the question. “I haven’t thought that far. And I’d have to explain it to Leslie, which would get complicated. With Danny, he’s already a friend of Ellie’s, so it’s not like I’m poking my nose in. It’s more natural.”

Christine smiled ruefully. “It’s difficult for you, isn’t it? Juggling who knows what and what you can say. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Call me after you’ve figured out how things are working out.”

“I will. Maybe you and Carolyn and I can have lunch together someday soon.”

Abby ushered Christine out just as Ned’s car pulled into their driveway. He got out of his car and waved at Christine as she pulled away, then walked toward the house. “Good news?” he called out when he was close enough to be heard.

“I think so. Come on in and I’ll tell you all about it.” She turned and headed straight for the kitchen, with Ned following at her heels.

When they were each supplied with a glass of wine, Ned said, “So?”

Abby launched into a description of her meeting with Carolyn, with more detail than she’d given Christine because she’d held back some bits to share with Ned. When she’d come to the end, Ned raised his glass to her. “Well done!”

“I hope so,” Abby replied. “I like Carolyn, and I think she’s committed to working with these kids. It can’t be easy, and from what little I’ve read, it seems that each child could have a different set of physical or cognitive issues, so there’s no single easy solution. Plus, working with autistic people really never ends. But I didn’t sense any red flags in the few I did meet.”

“I wonder how hard it is to find staff for places like these?”

“I didn’t think to ask. I guess we’d also have to wonder what the turnover is like. How quickly do teachers burn out, if they’re having trouble breaking through? My general impression is that it takes time to build trust with autistic children, which wouldn’t happen if people keep coming and going. And it must be frustrating to repeat the same exercises and therapies over and over again, with only limited progress.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” Ned asked.

“No! Not at all. This is kind of the perfect situation—I get to be part of the school on a limited basis, and I can observe and learn by doing. If I find out that it’s not for me or I’m not a good fit with this one place, I can walk away, and I’ll be better off than I started.”

“Good point,” Ned agreed. “So, you start tomorrow?”

“Looks like it. Unless Jack Maguire wants to get to work on the powder room, but he thought he wouldn’t even get the supplies and appliances until later in the week, so it may be next week before he could start. And as for the Maguires, you didn’t feel anything in the attic, right?”

“You mean, from Aunt Mary? No, never. But it’s highly unlikely that we would have a connection. Unless I’m getting better at sensing a broader range of people, thanks to you.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that—I didn’t pick up anything, but I think Ellie did. The Force is strong with this one.”

Ned smiled at Abby’s joke. “I’d say so. But please don’t channel Darth Vader. We’re supposed to be the good guys, right?”

“I hope so. Now, what’s happening with dinner?”

“Shall we scrounge?”

“Works for me,” Abby told Ned.

Cheerfully they threw together a meal based on whatever they could find in the refrigerator and cupboards. “You know, if I’m going to be working, we’re going to have to get more organized about food shopping,” Abby said. “And other household stuff.”

Ned grinned at her. “You mean, like ordinary people?”

“Well, only if you want to keep eating. And using, uh, certain paper products. I don’t want to get locked into one of those ‘whose turn is it?’ situations, but some sort of plan would be nice.”

“I agree,” Ned told her, “but we’ll have to work on it.”

“I’ll have to see what my schedule turns out to be. And not Thursdays, because that’s Ellie’s day.”

“We’re smart people. I think we can handle it. More wine?”

“Maybe a little. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Oh, by the way—there may be one fly in the ointment. I got a call from Leslie today.”

“Yes?” Abby said cautiously.

“The Littleton schools are closed all this week, and George was planning on staying home with Ellie and Petey, but something’s come up at his office, and he has to go in for a few hours in the afternoon. The museum is open both tomorrow and Friday, and Leslie has to cover both days. I said I could keep an eye on Ellie tomorrow, but I’m meeting with some investors on Friday. They’re not American, so they don’t know what all this fuss about Thanksgiving means and why anybody should get an extra day off. Could you handle Friday?”

“A whole day with Ellie? Sure. But I may end up working closer to full-time by next week—just keep that in mind. And I’ll be observing at the school Wednesday morning. Good thing Sarah’s doing the cooking!”

 

• • •

 

When she woke up the next morning, Abby wasn’t sure what she felt. Excited, she guessed, because she had a chance to see a lot of autistic kids together, that might, maybe, actually lead to a job that fit her unusual skills. And she felt scared as well, because she hadn’t had a formal job for a while. She came equipped with a hidden talent that could prove useful, but she couldn’t show it too much without raising questions. But it could turn out to be invaluable in teaching the children, and that’s what she needed to find out. It was going to be a real tightrope act until she figured things out.

She still harbored a niggling suspicion that the kids she’d seen the day before weren’t exactly representative of the spectrum, but Carolyn had said that there was no place for the more difficult ones at the school, because they would take away time and attention from the ones who could be helped. Still, it was a starting point, and she planned to gather as much information as she could in whatever time she had at the school, with whatever children she spent time with.

Having an unusual skill—good or bad—could be difficult, she was coming to realize. It was not unlike the stories of the Salem witches that she’d studied: if you happened to be a woman who knew her herbs and tonics and had some common sense, and actually saved people from common illnesses, especially children, then you were labeled a witch and executed. That didn’t seem logical or fair, but people in general mistrusted anything or anyone they didn’t understand, and it was easier to eliminate them than to learn more about them. What made it sadder was that people with such useful skills most often wanted to use their power to help other people—and paid the price. If someone wanted to murder a string of people, they were less likely to be caught because they knew they had to hide their skill. What a sad commentary on humanity, Abby thought as she hauled herself out of bed.

A trip to her closet confirmed her need for an expanded wardrobe of appropriate clothing, something that fell between corporate chic—for the job that Brad had insisted on—and DIY grubby, which she wore to paint the house. Something comfortable and easy to wear, and easy to wash as well. Just as soon as her new laundry room was ready to roll.

“Can I make you breakfast before I send you off to school?” Ned said in a sleepy voice from the bed.

“If you can do it fast. I’m going to grab a shower.”

By the time Abby was dressed, Ned had laid the table with nice china and had a pot of coffee waiting on the dining room table. “Scrambled eggs coming up—you need protein today. Should I pack you a lunch too?”

Abby laughed. “No, sit down and eat with me. I think I can find my own lunch. Who knows—they might have already booted me out by then.”

“Never,” Ned said firmly. “You will be indispensable within days. I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get home.” He studied Abby’s face for a moment. “Are you still up for this?”

Abby nodded. “Yes. I’ve just got first-day jitters. I want to help these kids, but I don’t want to tip our hand about the psychic thing, so I kind of feel like I’m walking through a mine field. Mostly it’s the adults I worry about—I think the kids won’t see anything unusual about it.”

“You know, I’m hoping I’ll be able to help, somewhere down the line.”

“Oh?”

“From what I’ve learned, autism sounds like a lot of poor wiring in the brain. Mostly missing connections, the ones that so-called normal people are born with, or develop naturally during infancy and childhood. The right kind of education or treatment can improve some of those things, but there’s a whole lot scientists and doctors don’t know about how it all works, or how the pieces fit together. Even the classifications are kind of vague. You can’t expect a single answer or to develop a universal strategy.”

“Ned, I know that. Heck, do we even know what parts of the brain are responsible for intelligence or lack of it? Or is it all acquired from birth onward? I’d say I’m conducting an experiment, and I’m starting with no preconceived ideas. I’ll be learning as much as the kids will.”

“Be sure you keep good records, will you?”

“Of course.” Abby smiled at him. “Oops, look at the time! I shouldn’t be late on my first day.”

“Do you have everything? Your clean hankie, your new notebook, plenty of pens and pencils? Your cell phone?”

“I think I’ve got it covered. Wish me luck!”

After Abby had gathered up her things, Ned followed her to the front door. “It’ll be fine,” he said, then leaned over to kiss her.

It was a sweet kiss, the passion muted, but Abby sensed a thread of worry coming from him. Was he concerned that she would struggle with the whole situation? Since they’d discovered their shared ability, Abby had been doing nothing but learning, because everything was new. Now she was supposed to put what she’d learned to good use, and she did feel kind of underprepared. But, she kept reminding herself, she knew so much more about all of it than most of the people in the world. “Yes, it will. See you at dinner!”