“I’m so pleased you could come to us on such short notice, Libby. What with the holidays coming up and all.” With her low voice, constant smile and warm manner, along with her silver hair pulled back in an intricate knot and her flowery dress billowing around her calves, Regina Parker looked like every child’s dream of the perfect grandmother.
Libby couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t known Miss Parker. She had attended the preschool. She had even fallen so deeply under the older woman’s spell that her only dream was to grow up and come back to work with her. One of Libby’s happiest days was her first day teaching at the school. And how she’d loved those times when Tyler picked her up in the afternoon!
No memories now, Libby. You’re here to make new ones.
Libby wanted nothing more than to scream at Matthias—demand he appear, even. Luckily, she knew better. He’d just remain invisible and she’d look like a fool.
“I’ve heard wonderful things about your school, Miss Parker,” she said in a low voice.
“Please, call me Miss Regina. Everyone here does. Let me introduce you to your class. You’ll learn that we’re somewhat informal here. The children learn, but teaching is done with games and crafts.”
“It sounds like a wonderful way for them to learn,” Libby replied truthfully. “I’ve always believed children learn more if you make the classroom a fun place where they enjoy finding out about new things.”
Miss Parker’s face lit up. “I could tell when I read your resumé that you would be a perfect addition to our staff.” She stood up, reaching for a cane she’d been forced to use since she broke her hip the previous spring. “Now let me introduce you to your class.”
Libby could feel her smile freeze on her face as she likewise stood and followed the older woman out of the office.
Her breakfast churned alarmingly in her stomach as she walked. The scent of violets drifted in the air toward her. Libby remembered it well as Miss Regina’s trademark.
She suddenly remembered the older woman contacting her after her baby’s death. How many times had she called? How often had she urged Libby to talk to her, and all Libby could do was whisper that she couldn’t talk and quietly hang up? After some time, there’d been no more calls. Now she wished she’d allowed her mentor to draw her out. Perhaps things would have been different for her.
But you didn’t wish to talk to her, did you? You preferred to wallow all alone in your pain, as if you were the only one to have suffered so.
Libby flinched at the blunt words spoken in her mind. Her stomach clenched again when they approached the second-to-last door on the right.
From the first day she’d started teaching here, this had been her classroom. Always she had headed for this room eager to work with her students.
Miss Regina smiled and opened the door, stepping back so Libby could enter first. A heavily pregnant woman seated in a low chair was reading from a storybook. At the sound of visitors, she looked up and smiled.
Libby wanted to cry. She felt as if she was looking at her own self more than a year ago.
“All right, my babies, who’s going to help the whale out of her chair this time?” the woman said cheerfully.
“Me!”
Within seconds, six small children were circling the woman and carefully helping her to her feet. She gave each one a thank-you hug before turning to Miss Regina and Libby.
“I gather you’re Libby.” She smiled, holding out her hand. “I’m Bonnie Summers. As you can tell—” She patted her round tummy “—the kids are useful in helping me get to my feet. I’m to the point where I’m more than happy to spend the remaining months wallowing in a comfortable chair with my feet propped up.”
Libby had no idea how she could muster up a smile, but she did as she took Bonnie’s hand. She felt as if she was looking at herself the day she had greeted her replacement.
“Yes, I can imagine it would be easier for you,” she murmured. “When are you due?”
“In two months, but I feel as if I’ve been pregnant all my life.” Bonnie chuckled. “Let me introduce you to my crew.” She turned to the tiny faces looking up at them expectantly.
One face in the back of the group caught Libby’s attention. The little girl had strawberry blond hair pulled back in a straggly ponytail, tied with a dark green ribbon that matched the ribbon trim in her green corduroy pinafore. A sprinkling of freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. Her mouth was made for laughter, except there was no laughter on her face or in her eyes. Instead, she looked at Libby with a touch of sorrow and something else that she couldn’t read.
Libby smiled as Bonnie put names to the faces. Each child stood up when his or her name was called, and walked over to shake the new teacher’s hand.
Blake, who swaggered over and gave a quick bow at the waist before taking her hand, was obviously the class show-off. His black hair and blue eyes along with a quick grin told Libby he would be a guaranteed lady-killer in ten years.
Candi was the class pinup girl. Her pink corduroy pants and pink-and-white print knit top were as immaculate as her white tennis shoes. Her blond hair was gathered up with pink barrettes that allowed the curls to cascade down her back. Libby doubted the little girl would let even a speck of dirt to touch her.
Troy was self-important, sure to grow up to be the next mover and shaker in the business world. Little Lisa was the bouncy cheerleader type, and Libby knew she would find the girl a wonderful helpmate in the class. Josh was obviously the one who loved to make trouble. The tear in his jeans bore witness to his latest brush with adventure.
Bonnie also pointed out Danny, Tisha, Kenny, Lisa and a few other children, but it was still the little girl in the back that Libby’s attention kept wandering to. Since she didn’t come forward, Libby finally walked over to her and crouched down.
“And who are you?” she asked in a soft voice.
The girl offered her a shy smile and whispered, “Becca.”
“Becca,” she repeated. She touched the girl’s nose with her finger. “Becca with freckles.”
Becca giggled. “Mrs. Robinson says they’re angel kisses.”
“And who’s Mrs. Robinson?”
“She takes care of me, since I don’t have a mommy or daddy,” she said matter-of-factly. “They got lost.”
“Becca is in foster care,” Bonnie said softly, coming up to stand by Libby. “She was found wandering the streets, with no idea what happened to her parents or where she came from. When Miss Regina read about her in the newspaper, she called Mrs. Robinson and suggested Becca come here. She was hoping interaction with other children would help her cope with her loss.”
Libby’s heart clenched at the thought of a child left with strangers. She quickly stood up.
“Are you saying she isn’t from around here? That she was virtually abandoned by her parents?” she whispered so Becca wouldn’t hear.
Bonnie’s lovely face showed concern for the little girl. “It’s a strange case. There were no car accidents in the area around the time she was found, and with her being so young, it hasn’t been easy to find out much more than her name and that she’s four. I’m afraid she doesn’t interact with the children very well. It’s as if she feels she doesn’t need anyone else in her world.”
A child without a mother being watched by a mother who’d lost her own child. Libby couldn’t even imagine who hurt more here.
The morning passed quickly as Bonnie graciously stepped back so Libby would be the one dealing with the children.
They first made up a game to help Libby learn their names, and during rest time, Bonnie showed Libby lesson plans and the two women discussed what the class had been doing for the past few months. It didn’t take Libby long to realize how much she had missed teaching.
“It’s amazing how close your ideas are to Miss Regina’s,” Bonnie marveled as they shared lunch. “Most new teachers who have worked elsewhere don’t approve of her methods and aren’t afraid to say so.”
“I can imagine they don’t stay long, then, do they?” Libby smiled. “It was easy to discover that small children learn faster when they have fun while doing so. I don’t know about you, but I swear I still have nightmares about my fourth-grade teacher, who ran her classroom like a military boot camp.”
“You, too?” Bonnie laughed. “Mrs. Kittridge was like that when I was in fourth grade, and I couldn’t imagine there could be another one of her.”
Libby’s smile froze for a second. She should have known that Bonnie, close to her own age, would have studied under the same teacher.
“Maybe it’s a prerequisite for fourth-grade teachers,” she said lightly.
“That’s why I knew I wanted to teach preschoolers. Not to mention how much I enjoy all the playtime we have,” Bonnie said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Although it hasn’t been as easy to get up and down the past few months. I’m letting you do all that for the next few days. We won’t even mention what happened to me the time I got down in the beanbag chair last week.”
Libby chuckled at the mental picture of the pregnant young woman ensconced in an extremely soft chair that didn’t readily release its occupants.
“How many kids did it take to get you out of it?”
“More like three teachers. I was told not to do it again.” She laughed. “Have you started looking for a place to stay yet?”
Libby shook her head. “I haven’t been here long enough. I know I can’t put it off for too long. I guess I should start looking this weekend.” In a sense, she felt reluctant to leave the motel. A part of her feared she would lose Matthias if she moved elsewhere.
Never fear, Libby. I will not leave you until it’s time. I also told you that you would not be staying in a hotel for long.
You’re such a comfort Matthias.
I try.
“If you don’t need anything fancy, I know my aunt is looking for a tenant for the apartment over her garage. It’s pretty roomy and set back on the property so you actually have privacy. She’s a widow and does a lot of traveling, so she likes to know someone’s around when she’s gone.”
“If it saves me from apartment hunting I’d be more than happy to look at it.”
“I’ll call Aunt Cyn and let her know you’ll be by.”
After that, Libby felt as if she was well on her way to making her first friend.
Libby was kept busy, which made the day go by fast for her.
She had forgotten how much fun it was to be with kids this age and also how much she could learn from them. But it was Becca her gaze turned to more and more often, and she couldn’t help wondering about the little girl.
During storytime, Becca sat close to the front of the group arranged in a half circle, but she still managed to remain apart from the others. And on the playground, she preferred pieces of equipment she could use by herself.
How could parents just abandon a child like Becca? Libby wondered to herself.
There’s always a reason, whether we understand it or not.
You’re beginning to sound like Confucius.
Where do you think the man learned about true philosophy? There was no mistaking the arrogance in Matthias’s tone.
By the end of the day, Libby was exhausted, but she felt more relaxed than she had in some time. If she had looked at herself in the mirror, she would have seen that her cheeks were flushed from her busy day and her smile came more readily.
She was busy straightening up the books when she noticed she wasn’t alone in the room. Becca sat quietly in a chair, her hands in her lap and her coat lying on the table beside her. A Winnie the Pooh backpack leaned against her feet.
“Mrs. Robinson is late sometimes,” Becca explained in her soft, whispery voice.
Libby walked over to the table and crouched down on her heels so she was at eye level with the child.
“Do you like Mrs. Robinson, Becca?” she asked.
Becca’s shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. “She lets me help her make cookies,” she replied. “And she has a cat. But King Tut is really old and he doesn’t like to play. He smells funny, too.”
Libby’s lips curved. “So he doesn’t like kids, huh?”
“He doesn’t like anybody but Mrs. Robinson, and even she can’t get him to smell nice,” Becca confided. “I tried putting some of Mrs. Robinson’s perfume on him once, but he got mad and scratched me. See?” She pulled back a sleeve and revealed a long, dark pink scratch along the inside of her arm.
“Cats aren’t very fond of perfume,” Libby said, feeling her facial muscles work overtime as she struggled not to laugh after hearing about the irate cat.
Becca looked past Libby. Libby turned to find a woman in her sixties enter the room.
“You must be Miss Libby. I’m Ada Robinson, Becca’s foster mother.” The woman smiled warmly. “I’m sorry I’m late. The Ladies Aid Society meeting ran longer than usual. Are you ready, Becca?”
The little girl nodded and stooped down to pick up her knapsack. She looked up at Libby.
“Goodbye, Miss Libby,” she whispered, before following the woman out of the room.
Libby settled in the chair Becca had just vacated. For a moment, she felt very cold.
“I promised myself not to leave myself open for any more hurt,” she whispered. It took several minutes before she could rouse herself to move. She had just finished straightening the books when Bonnie bustled in, walking in the modified duck waddle all pregnant women seem to have.
“Aunt Cyn will be more than happy to see you,” she announced. “She said if you’d like to come by tonight she’ll be home all evening.” She held out a piece of paper with a name, address, phone number and directions.
“This is very nice of you,” Libby murmured, studying the paper.
Bonnie waved off her comment. “You need a place to live and you may as well find a nice one. Besides, you don’t want a motel to eat up all your money, do you?”
“No,” Libby admitted, privately wondering just how much money she had. She still felt in the dark about a lot of things.
I would not worry if I were you. You have enough until you receive a paycheck.
“I’ll call her. Thank you.” She tucked the piece of paper in her skirt pocket.
“See you tomorrow.” Bonnie picked up a patchwork-quilt bag. “Unless one day was too much for you,” she joked.
Libby looked around the room, with its brightly colored posters on the walls, along with examples of the children’s artwork. She wondered why she had fought for so long returning to school, when this was where she truly belonged.
“No, one day wasn’t enough for me,” she murmured.
The moment Libby got back to the motel, she pulled the paper out of her pocket and dialed the number.
“Cyn here!” a woman’s husky voice answered.
Libby was taken aback by the robust, unorthodox greeting and couldn’t think of anything to say for a moment. She could only sit there holding the receiver.
“If this is supposed to be an obscene phone call, I do wish you’d say something and make my day,” the woman said.
“I’m sorry. I’m Libby Douglas. Your niece, Bonnie, told me to call you about the apartment,” she said.
“Oh yes, the new teacher. What time would you like to come by?”
“Is seven all right?” Libby racked her brain to figure out if she knew Cyn or not. Considering the town wasn’t all that large, she assumed she did. But nothing about the woman seemed familiar.
“Fine with me. Did Bonnie give you directions…? Good,” she stated when Libby assured her she had. “I’ll see you then.” She hung up as abruptly as she’d answered the call.
Libby replaced the receiver in the cradle and wondered what she was going to do next.
“What would I do if I were in my own home?” she said in a louder voice, in hopes Matthias would hear her.
You never seemed to find anything constructive to do, as I recall.
Stung by his words, even if they only echoed in her head, she sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. She had slipped off her shoes before climbing on the mattress and now she contemplated her black-stockinged toes. She knew she should go out to get some dinner, but she couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for the idea.
She thought of all the times she’d been content to sit in the rocking chair in her room at home, just moving back and forth. She had sat there with Sara for hours, the few months she’d been allowed to hold her child in her arms. She would never forget the satisfaction of feeling the tiny body against hers as she nursed. Or the nights, especially the nights, when Tyler would sit up against the headboard, holding Libby against his chest while Libby either nursed Sara or just cuddled her.
If she closed her eyes, she could hear Tyler’s voice softly rumbling in the dark as he predicted that Sara would say Daddy before she said Mommy. Or that he wouldn’t allow her to date until she was at least thirty. Not to mention his musing that he should find himself a good shotgun for any boys who dared to sniff around his gorgeous daughter. No matter that Sara hadn’t even started eating solid food yet or tried any word at all. Tyler had been convinced his daughter was the smartest, most beautiful kid in the world.
Libby’s eyes snapped open and a tiny sob escaped her lips before she could stop herself. It wasn’t long before the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks and she was rolling over to cry into her pillow.
She knew why she was crying. This was the first time she didn’t have someone to comfort her in her sorrow.