Colleen walked to Evelyn’s classroom trailer to bring some of the carpet squares she had managed to get from the local Carpets My Way. Colleen had had the idea of asking for out-of-date samples so she could take the children outside to sit on the lawn behind the trailer. The manager had been kind and given her enough for her class, plus ten more.
“I can’t believe you got anyone to give you these,” Evelyn said, as she opened the door.
“It all happened after a stop at the library. That young librarian who’s been collecting books for me to use with my class told me where the shop was. You know, Jeanne, the one with the braces.”
Evelyn shook her head. “No, I don’t go to that library.”
Colleen handed her the carpet pieces with raised eyebrows. “Why not, Evelyn?”
Evelyn took the pieces and turned to put them down. “My concern, not yours. Leave it at that.”
Colleen sat on a student desk and plowed on, ignoring the gaffe. “Oh, right, well, I told Jeanne that I had some carpet samples in my classroom last year for story-time sit-upons. She was the one who recommended I speak to her friend who manages the shop.”
Evelyn didn’t seem to be listening as she piled the sit-upons on a student’s chair.
“I never would have found the shop if she hadn’t explained exactly where it was, at the end of Main Street, tucked back near the railroad crossing. I told her friend that Jeanne sent me and that I was a second-grade teacher at Kettle Creek Elementary School. He couldn’t have been nicer.”
Evelyn stood back to look at the stack of carpets she had piled on the small seat. “I’ll find a better spot to store them when we get back from spring break. Where did you put yours?”
“For now, they’re under the spare desk I use to set up the library books.” Colleen cleared her throat and waited for Evelyn to face her, then said, “I want to thank you for listening to me after that disaster with Jarrod. Your idea to take the children out of the trailer for some of our lessons has made all the difference. We’re happier outside. And the carpet squares help them stay in one spot.”
“I’m glad it worked out. Thank you for the bringing me these. I never would have thought of using them.”
The stack of sit-upons tilted and landed on the floor. “Some of these are big enough for two kids to sit on—that’s why they fell,” Evelyn said. She restacked them and left them on the floor. She took her sweater from the back of the chair, folded it over her arm, and picked up her pocketbook. “Sorry, don’t mean to rush you out, but I have to get home. I’m traveling to Baton Rouge as soon as I pack up my suitcase.”
Colleen stood to leave. “That sounds nice. Let’s get out of here, then. Miguel doesn’t have the week off, but I sure can use it.”
Colleen thought about how different Evelyn had become since their mentor meetings back at West Hill. Things had changed right before Christmas, when she’d warned Colleen that the Klan was watching her take the children to the library. Then Evelyn had remembered her birthday with a cake. Now they actually shared ideas. It was nice. She felt like they were true friends as they walked to the parking lot together.