19

An hour after her meeting with Pastor Jorgensen, Muriel limped up the short walkway to her house. The tall grass on either side waved in the late afternoon breeze. It seemed to be mocking her.

What could she do about her grass? She hadn’t had much hope that Stan would let her have money from her account. Now she had no hope at all. And no money. Why hadn’t God listened to her prayers? How many times did she have to remind him?

The thought of a weed whacker came out of nowhere. Was that the best God could do? Well, maybe it would work. Weed whackers cost a lot less than lawnmowers. If she ate eggs instead of chicken every night, she could save a few dollars a week. She wondered how many weeks it would take to save up for a weed whacker. Too many probably. Her grass was already long. Lord, please help.

She unlocked her front door and passed by the flashing light on her answering machine.

She pushed the play button, her finger hovering over the delete key.

Kevin’s voice rang out.

Kevin! So he’d remembered her. Muriel smiled. Not suing his family was the right thing to do. Hearing his voice reinforced that decision.

“Hi, Mrs. B.” His recorded voice sounded rehearsed and formal. Nothing like the way he had spoken to her in person. “My dad’s making me call.”

Well, that explained it.

“He says I owe you. You know. Because of the carjacking and all. So…I was wondering if there were any chores I could do for you. Like, uh, oh, I don’t know. I guess I could mow your lawn once a week. You do have a lawn, don’t you? We never talked about that. Anyway, here’s my number. Please call me back. I’m going to be in big trouble if you don’t. Thanks.” There was a murmur of two male voices in the background before a click signaled the end of the call.

Lawn mowing! Hadn’t she just been praying about that? Not only right before the carjacking but just a few seconds ago. And all along, she’d thought God wasn’t listening to her. Of course, He was listening. He just liked to do things His own way. Somebody so creative wouldn’t take orders from her. He’d figure out something better than she’d specified. After all, He created oddities like aardvarks and flying fish and praying mantises. No wonder His answer to her simple prayer was a convoluted series of events.

But carjacking, Lord? What were You thinking? Muriel jotted Kevin’s number down on the pad she kept by the phone, played the recording back, and double checked the number. Just as she picked up the receiver to return the call, the doorbell rang.

Muriel left the chain on the door and opened it a crack, peering quizzically at the balding, middle-aged man who stood on her porch. “I don’t want to subscribe to any magazines. And I don’t pay to have work done around the house.”

Neither statement was true. She started to close the door.

Mrs. Smith?” the man asked.

Well, that was a good guess. Half the people in the phone book had the last name Smith.

“Yes?” Her voice quavered just a little. How she hated that old lady voice.

“Mrs. Smith! You don’t remember me? I remember you!”

“Sorry.” She had heard of such scams. She started to close the door again.

“Wait! Watch!” The man began mouth motions as if he were chewing gum. Then with his right hand he started rubbing what little remained of the hair on top of his head while with his left hand he patted his stomach. Last, he tipped his head back, put out an unnaturally long tongue, and curled it up to touch the tip of his nose.

Had this man escaped from some sort of institution? Should she call the police? No. Better wait for him to leave. Let him get a few houses away before she picked up the phone. She didn’t want him to figure out who had called. In case he was the violent type.

Then he smiled. A lopsided smile, one corner of his mouth going up more than the other.

Patrick! Patrick…she couldn’t think of his last name. It started with a “T.” She would have sworn to that. Why was the last name always harder to come to her? Probably because she had called these children by their first names every day for the 180 days that made up the school year.

It had been 360 days for Patrick.

“Patrick! Here. Let me close the door so I can open it.”

Patrick’s eyebrows went up. “I can’t believe you remember my name after all these years.”

“I was just thinking about you the other day.” Muriel closed the door enough so she could take the chain off. Then she opened it wide and peered past Patrick to a dark green station wagon parked by the curb. Two boys were wrestling in the backseat while a third boy, a little bigger, bopped his head in front. Earphones seemed to grow, fungus like, on the sides of his head.

“Are those your children?” How incredible that children had children. It never ceased to amaze her. But then Patrick was no longer a child. Why, he must be about the same age now as she was when she taught him.

“They sure are. Chips off the old block. Jimmy couldn’t get the hang of geometry last year. Sound like anybody you know?”

Muriel smiled. “Sounds like you, Patrick. I hope he didn’t fail his course?”

“No. Thank goodness. He squeaked by. But barely.”

“Well, come in. Come in. Would you like a little tea? Coffee? I don’t have any soda in the house. Don’t drink it myself. And my milk’s a bit old. The boys could have some orange juice if they’d like. Or ice water.”

“Nothing, thanks. If the two of us could just sit out here on the steps, that would be great. Get a little fresh air. Make sure my car is still in one piece when I want to go home.” Patrick smiled again.

That ridiculous, familiar smile! It was almost contagious. Just like Kevin’s.

“Any special reason you dropped by?” Muriel sat on the second stair from the bottom and rubbed her right knee. “Arthritis pains. Just part of getting older.”

“I can relate. I have a tinge of arthritis myself.” Patrick leaned back, his two elbows resting on the step above him. “Actually, there is a reason I dropped by. You kind of disappeared when you stopped teaching. Some of us talked about looking you up. But there are lots of Smiths in the phonebook. And nobody even knew if you still lived in the area. The school wouldn’t give out any information at all. They kept saying there were privacy issues. They must have thought we had plans to T.P. your house.”

“Did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, Patrick, it’s nice to know somebody still remembers me. Teaching was such a waste of fifteen years of my life. I quit before I could even get a pension.”

Patrick laughed. “Fifteen years of brats like me was all you could take?”

“No. I would have kept going. If I had taught only five more years, I would have a state pension coming in every month for the rest of my life. It would have been such a blessing. But my husband got seriously ill. Cancer. He needed me home.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But you should never feel teaching was a waste of your time. Or your talents. You changed my life. That’s why I wanted to get in touch. I thought you deserved to know.”

“Me? Changed your life?”

“Yes!”

“I guess everybody we meet changes our lives in some way.”

“But you really changed mine. You flunked me, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I remember every single one of the students I flunked. Every name. Every face. I felt so bad about flunking them. If only I had explained geometry some better way, maybe I could have gotten through. I don’t always remember the last names though. And the faces have changed by now. Matured. Just as yours has. I don’t know if I’d recognize any of my former students if I saw them in the grocery store.”

“You remember the really smart kids, too?”

Muriel nodded. “I often wonder what’s happened to them. What they’re doing. Whether they’re happy.” Whether they peaked in high school and became losers like me.

“And the average ones?”

Muriel shook her head. “Not so much. There were twenty-five students per class, five classes a year, fifteen years of teaching. That’s a lot of students. Hundreds of them.”

“Well, would you believe I’m a CPA now?” There was the lop-sided grin again.

Muriel laughed. “A numbers cruncher? You? No offense, but that’s hard to believe.”

“Nah. Just kidding. I own a landscaping franchise a couple towns over. And you know what? Math does come in handy. Just like you used to say. IRS forms. Square footage. Profit and loss statements. Even with a good calculator you have to know what numbers to put in and what function to perform. And if you can’t do the work yourself, you have to pay somebody else a whole lot of money to do it for you.”

“And you’re handling everything all right?”

Patrick nodded. “Thanks to you, yes. And if I need help I know enough to ask for it. That’s another thing you taught me. It wasn’t all geometry, you know. You taught life lessons, too. I still remember some of the stories you told about your daughter. You always got such a sparkle in your eyes when you mentioned her. Made me want to have kids myself someday. And now look.” He waved his arm at the station wagon out front.

“What I remember is that you were good at soccer. A jock. Yes?”

“Yeah, that was me. You can’t make a living at soccer. Not unless you’re Pele or Beckham. I didn’t know that at the time. I thought I was pretty hot stuff. That’s why I took Spanish in school. So I could play soccer in Brazil.

Muriel laughed. “They don’t speak Spanish in Brazil. They speak Portuguese.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

“And now you’re a father of three boys?”

“Yep. Jimmy’s a chip off the old block Thinks he’s hot stuff, too. But he’s bigger than I was. He was only a sophomore last year, but the coach wanted him on the varsity football team. This year he’ll be a starting player. Plans to go pro. Doesn’t see any point studying if he can make millions throwing a ball. Heck, I don’t blame him for trying. Everyone has to have a dream. I just want him to have a Plan B. Just like my mother told me every year before she died.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”

“Heart attack.” Patrick looked down and bit his lower lip.

“Did she have a big funeral?” Muriel’s words popped out.

Patrick looked up. “What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. Thirty, forty people maybe.” He paused. “That seems like a strange question. Why would you ask?”

“My husband had such a small funeral. He died ten years ago, and I still can’t stop feeling bad about the graveside service. Five people. That was it. Looks like I’ll only have three people at my funeral. Four if my great-grandchild is born. Would you like to come?”

Patrick looked up at her. “To your funeral? Uh, sure. I’d be happy to do that for you. But I’m sorry to hear you’re so ill. Is it cancer? Or would you rather not say?”

“Oh, I’m not sick. Just obsessed with the idea of a small funeral. I always thought I’d make a difference in the world. Do something with my life. It’s not going to happen. Not at my age.”

“But you did do something. That’s why I wanted to get in touch with you. The other teachers, they were happy to pass me along. D minus was an easy out for them. At least they didn’t have to deal with me two years in a row. I didn’t care at the time. D minus seemed a lot better than studying. I just wanted to get out of that place. Back then, I thought those teachers were the greatest. But you, I hated you. You were a real pain in the you-know-what.”

Muriel shrugged. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I really am. You don’t have to come to my funeral if you feel that way.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. That’s not what I mean. It turns out you were the one who was the greatest. It just took me a few years to realize it. You made me stop on my fast track. Learn there were consequences to things I said and did. Actually learn geometry, too. Not that I remember much of it now. Couldn’t help Jimmy at all last year. He got a D+. But I have no idea how. Next year he’s signed up for trigonometry and pre-calculus. I don’t know how he’s going to manage either of those. My wife’s not good at math, either.”

“I could help.” Muriel’s words popped out.

Patrick looked at her in surprise. “You mean like tutor him?”

“It’s not like I’m too busy anymore. I am retired.”

Patrick was serious. “Well, gee. I didn’t come here to ask any favors of you. Honest. But you tutoring him? That would be great. I’d pay you the going rate, of course. Or maybe I could do some landscaping for you in exchange. I notice your grass is pretty high. And there are a few dead branches on that maple tree over there. You should get them off before they fall and damage your property.”

Muriel smiled. “I’m sure we can work something out. But I’m curious. How did you find me? You mentioned there were so many Smiths.”

Muriel could see the children in the car were ready to go. Home. Ice cream. Anywhere but some old lady’s house. The one in the front had stopped bopping his head and was shaking it back and forth as if he couldn’t believe they were still in the same spot. The two in the back were leaning against their respective doors. She would bet anything they were foot wrestling.

Maybe that’s why Natalie turned out to be so self-centered. Maybe if she had had a sibling, she would have been a little more compassionate. Howard had wanted to have more children. So had Muriel. It just never happened.

Patrick leaned toward Muriel. “The carjacking, that’s how I found you. They showed an old picture of you on TV. Must have been from a high school yearbook. I thought ‘I know that lady!’ And your address was in the local paper. It was actually one of my classmates who saw that. Legs Landry. You remember him? He posted it on Facebook. We’re all in touch, you know.”

“All of you?”

“Well, most of us. Say, did you know Legs owns that big conference center on the other side of town?”

Landry Conference Center. Why, of course. Why had she never made that connection before? “I didn’t know Legs was connected to that. I’ve heard the service is wonderful.”

“How’d that ever turn out anyway? The carjacking, I mean.”

Muriel smiled. Kevin to mow the grass. An old student popping by. A little tutoring job to relieve the monotony of her days. Some pocket change. Her cup running over. So that’s what God was up to. If it hadn’t been for the kidnapping, Patrick would never have been able to get in touch. “It turned out just fine. A lot better than I thought it would.”