Eliza rushed from the studio as soon as the Thursday-evening broadcast was over. Back-to-School Night started at seven-thirty and she was having the driver go directly to HoHoKus Public School. Even if there was absolutely no traffic on the West Side Highway she was going to be late.
But, like most evenings, there was traffic. Lots of it. By the time Eliza hurried into Mrs. Prescott’s kindergarten classroom, the teacher had finished her presentation. The parents were already up from the cramped positions they had taken in the pint-sized seats at the tiny desks and were milling around the room, searching for their respective children’s crayoned artwork tacked to the walls.
“Mrs. Prescott, I’m Eliza Blake, Janie’s mother.”
“Of course, Ms. Blake,” the diminutive, middle-aged teacher extended her hand. Mrs. Prescott wasn’t that much taller than her students. “It’s so good to meet you. My husband and I watch you every night.”
“Thank you,” said Eliza, a bit uncomfortably. She didn’t want the focus to be on herself. She was here to talk about her daughter. “How is Janie doing?”
“Very well, very well,” said Mrs. Prescott. “She seems to be adjusting nicely. I understand you just moved in a few days before she started school?”
“That’s right. It was all very rushed.”
“And you have a new housekeeper?”
“Yes, Mrs. Garcia,” Eliza confirmed. “So far, so good. Janie and she are getting along famously.”
Mrs. Prescott nodded. “Yes, she seems very nice when she picks up Janie every day. Janie seems happy to go with her.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Janie tells me that you had a robbery?”
Eliza was starting to feel uncomfortable, and guilty, as the teacher listed the litany of changes and traumas Janie had been through of late. “Yes, unfortunately, we did,” she answered.
“Janie told me she was sad because some pictures were stolen.”
Janie hadn’t said a word to her about it. Oh, God.
“Yes, family pictures that were in frames.”
“Some of her father?”
What was this? The inquisition?
Eliza nodded.
Mrs. Prescott bit the corner of her lip and Eliza sensed a growing reticence.
“You look like you have something on your mind, Mrs. Prescott. Please, tell me what it is.”
“I read in the newspaper about what happened over the summer. Janie has been through quite a lot for such a little girl. I just want you to know I’m sensitive to that.”
Eliza could feel other eyes watching her in the crowded classroom. It was at times like this that she yearned for anonymity. She was relieved when another parent approached to speak with the teacher.
The classroom bulletin boards had headings. The first was, “What I Did Over the Summer.” Eliza was relieved to see Janie’s depictions of the Newport seashore rather than a stick figure of Mrs. Twomey holding a gun.
The “Harvest” bulletin-board artwork was pretty universal. All the kids had drawn big orange pumpkins.
“My Family” was another heading. Eliza’s heart sank as she looked at the five-year-olds’ rudimentary drawings that clearly showed two big parents with assorted numbers of children. Basic all-American families. When she got to Janie’s picture, she saw that her daughter had drawn a big mommy, and a little girl, with a tiny yellow blob next to her which Eliza supposed represented Daisy. There had still been lots of space remaining on the construction paper. In the corner, Janie had drawn her tiny version of KayKay and a white-haired Poppie holding hands. It was a lopsided arrangement. But that was family as Janie knew it.
For the first time, Eliza was glad that Larson had dropped off that dog.
She felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see Susan Feeney smiling at her. Eliza made an effort to wipe the concern from her face.
“Hiya, Susan. How are you?”
“I’m fine. But what’s wrong with you? You look so down.”
Eliza gestured to the bulletin board.
“What?” asked Susan.
“Look at all those pictures and then look at Janie’s.”
Susan stared at the drawings. “Oh, you mean the mommy-daddy thing?” She patted Eliza on the arm. “Don’t worry, in a couple of years half those parents will be divorced.”
Eliza tried not to laugh. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
“Forget about it, Eliza. Everything looks like Ozzie-and-Harrietland out here. But knock on just about any door: every family has its problems. You love Janie and she knows it. She is a very secure little girl. She’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” Eliza said, liking Susan more and more.
Susan held out a pad of paper. “Come on, sign up for something. Get involved. You’ll feel better.”
Eliza scanned the sheet. Class Mother. Forget it, there was no way she could take that on. Bake Sale. Well, she could have Mrs. Garcia bake something but that didn’t warrant any real involvement on her part. Brownie Leader. Nope—had to be home after school for that. Book Sale. Again, it was during the week. Halloween Parade.
“What do you have to do for Halloween Parade?” Eliza asked.
“Get donuts and cider and be here at school the Saturday morning before Halloween when the kids finish their march from town in their costumes.”
Eliza scribbled her signature on the line. “I can handle that.” She handed the pad back to her neighbor. “And, Susan, thanks again for making Janie’s costume. I really appreciate it.”
The guilt never ended.