A Child's Wish

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Those words were his farewell.

  Standing alone in her kitchen, Meredith heard them again in her mind. There was a limit to what he would do. And it might not be enough.

  For now it was all she had.

  She’d have to do a lot of right living to make sure that what she had was enough.

  AT SEVEN-THIRTY Thursday morning, parents representing twenty-nine students showed up in Ms. Foster’s third-grade classroom. Mark was at the door, welcoming them and watching as Meredith stood at the front of the room, greeting everyone with reassuring smiles. Their sons and daughters were enjoying doughnuts and juice, compliments of Mark, in the gymnasium with Macy Leonard. While he might have doubts about the advisability of hiring Meredith Foster, in the past five seconds he’d understood without a doubt that he’d made an excellent choice in his secretary.

  “How’s it going?” Susan, dressed in a sleek black pantsuit with a red silk blouse, came up beside him. She looked great.

  “So far, so good,” he told her quietly, resisting the urge to kiss her. She was a great woman, a great friend and he was lucky to have found her.

  Or rather, lucky that Meredith Foster had introduced them.

  “Everyone showed up.”

  “I was afraid I wouldn’t get here in time,” she told him, her gaze gliding over the sea of adults sitting in miniature chairs. He’d grown used to the sight of small desks and low toilets in his workday life, but to someone like Susan he guessed it might seem pretty unusual. “I’ve never done my rounds so efficiently.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, giving parents a chance to greet each other, put themselves at ease, before he called the gathering to order.

  “Did you tell her I’d be coming?” Susan motioned toward Meredith, who was over by the wall talking to a group of parents about various pieces of artwork on display.

  “No.” From the moment he’d first seen Ms. Foster that morning, he’d been all business. He had a job to do. He couldn’t lose sight of that fact—or lose focus, either. He wasn’t going to be swayed by the fact that Meredith Foster was the best friend of the woman he intended to marry. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he added, moving into the classroom.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming.”

  The room, which had been buzzing, grew still as Mark stood with his back to Meredith’s desk—and to the two women standing behind it. He’d seen them hug, and that had been enough.

  “Is there anyone here who has not seen or heard about the article in the paper regarding Larry Barnett and Ms. Foster?”

  Some heads nodded. No hands were raised.

  “That’s what I figured. I asked you here to reassure you that we have everything under control at Lincoln Elementary. I wanted to give you a more complete version of the truth, answer any questions you might have and offer you the opportunity to move your children to another third-grade class if you so choose.”

  He heard the gasp behind him, felt a pang, even though he knew he’d been under no obligation to tell Meredith his plan to give parents of her students the possibility of moving their children out. He’d had a call from the president of the school board that morning and had obtained the man’s reluctant consent to handle the situation his way for now, assuming he at least gave the parents a choice.

  More than two dozen faces stared back at him. Some of the adults out so early were dressed professionally, probably going straight to work from the grade school. Some looked as though they’d barely rolled out of bed. They were dressed in everything from sweats and overalls to three-piece suits. And every single one of them looked concerned.

  “Before I say more, I’d like to give Ms. Foster a chance to speak with you.” He stepped aside, watched Meredith make eye contact with the parents of her students as she came forward.

  Her conservative navy slacks, white blouse with its bow at the neck and her understated navy earrings and bracelet were carefully chosen, he was sure. He had to give her credit for doing even that job well. She’d worn her hair down, too, giving her a softer look.

  Not that his approval mattered. How she wore her hair had nothing to do with him. He’d always preferred short hair on a woman, anyway.

  “I’m glad you came,” Meredith started. “I take my job very seriously. I come to work every day aware that I will be spending the next six or seven hours of my day caring for your children, not just teaching them how to add and write and read, but teaching them how to get along with each other, how to thrive in society. How to be kind. And I hope I teach them that there are good people in the world, that there are people outside their homes who care about them, people they can trust. I hope that I show them they can trust me, as it’s only with utmost trust that they will lend me their minds, be willing to receive knowledge from me.”

  She was good. Mark’s skin tightened and a chill spread through him. She really meant what she was saying. And this was what made Meredith Foster the best teacher he’d ever had in his employ.

  “I would never, ever do anything to hurt any of your children,” she continued without missing a beat, her gaze moving over the room, connecting every single person there. “On the contrary, I tend to stick my neck out in an attempt to help them. Which is what I did for Tommy Barnett. I believed that he was having problems at home and I would not have been able to live with myself, had I not said something to his mother about my belief. I can’t honestly tell any of you that I wouldn’t do it again. Nor will I tell you that I wouldn’t do the same for your child. Because I know that I would. That is the promise you have from me. I will be here, I will be focused and attentive, and if I ever suspect that any one of your children is struggling in any way, I will come straight to you.”

  Meredith paused. Heads nodded.

  “That’s all I have to say. Thank you.” She turned to him. “Thank you, Mr. Shepherd.”

  Mark cleared his throat. He was on. And he didn’t have a thing to add that would be better than what she’d just said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE HALLS WERE EMPTY of children, quiet and yet very much alive as Meredith walked from her classroom to Mark’s office late that afternoon. The day’s energy resonated, filling the space with innocence, frustration, fear and joviality.

  She shifted the black M&M bag to her other shoulder. Tired as she was, she could pick up on all the various emotions that were lingering—or perhaps she was so tired she was simply imagining they must be there. Either way, she couldn’t fathom not walking these halls, next to lockers and doorways that had been witness to thousands of secrets over the years. She couldn’t fathom not being aware of the children.

  Panic churned in her stomach and she forced herself not to give in to it. She hated feeling powerless. Her destiny was out of her hands at the moment, but she understood enough about life’s process to know that it was only temporary.

  So why wasn’t that helping?

  The outer door to the principal’s office was open, which was how Macy left it when she went home if Mark was still here. He’d said he’d wait for her.

  And he was talking to someone. She’d thought they’d discuss the results of the morning’s meeting alone—it would be hard enough to hear how many parents had opted out of her classroom without having to hear it in front of an audience.

  She went in anyway.

  “Oh, Kelsey. Hi, honey!” The little girl was sitting in her father’s chair behind his desk, her feet far above the ground. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  Mark rose from one of the two task chairs in front of his desk. “Kelsey heard some kids talking today and decided to come and see me rather than going home with Josie.”

  “There’s a problem with Josie?” Meredith asked, glancing at the child, wanting so badly to protect her from life’s hurts—big and small. Her eyes bright and dark above a pouting mouth, Kelsey was definitely upset about something.

  “The talk was about you.”

  “Josie says you’re messed up
.” Kelsey stared at the top of Mark’s desk and chewed on a paper clip.

  “Messed up,” Meredith said, switching gears, trying to assess.

  “You know,” the little girl added. “Weird.”

  Meredith dropped to the chair next to the one Mark had vacated. “Because of what was in the newspaper?” She focused solely on Kelsey.

  “Because of what you did. Some of the kids were talking about it today ’cause their parents asked them if they knew you and they didn’t, but since I know you a lot they talked to Josie and me and some of the other kids who had you last year.”

  “And this is all because I talked to Tommy’s mom?”

  Kelsey shrugged, the straps of her pink corduroy overalls growing taut and then loosening again.

  Mark reclaimed his seat, his legs stretched out in front of him, hands on the arms of the chair. Usually those hands represented some kind of security to her. Today they could crush her job, her way of life.

  “Kelsey’s trying to understand how you could know what was wrong with Tommy when he didn’t tell you.”

  I see. And her father, an unbeliever, was supposed to enlighten her?

  Ignoring him, she sat forward. “Hey, Kelse, remember when Rock Hudson tricked Doris Day into thinking he was a naive scientist, when he was really the playboy ad executive who was trying to ruin her?”

  The little girl glanced up. “Yeah.”

  “How’d you feel?”

  “I dunno.” She looked away and then back. “Mad.”

  “Why?”

  “I dunno.”

  Meredith waited.

  “Because he was a jerk.”

  “Yeah, but not to you.”

  Kelsey dropped the paper clip, put both hands on the arms of her father’s chair, giving Meredith a piercing look. The likeness between Kelsey and her father grabbed at Meredith’s heart. These were special people.

  “You felt what the Doris Day character felt, didn’t you?”

  Kelsey frowned. “I guess, but…”

  “I know, it was just a movie and you were supposed to feel that way,” Meredith said, having to concentrate in order not to be undone by the child’s skeptical father sitting next to her.

  At least Mark was letting her handle this; she appreciated that.

  “The movie people made it easy for you to feel that way,” she explained. “But you could feel that way in real life, too, if you paid really close attention to what was going on in another person’s life. You knew all about what was happening to Doris Day because you were completely focused on the movie and the director showed you all the important stuff about her without you having to look for it. They did the work for you.”

  Kelsey was quiet, but she appeared to be considering what Meredith had said. Meredith knew all the signs of boredom and a wandering mind, and Kelsey wasn’t fidgeting, her gaze was steady and she wasn’t yawning.

  “Just as most of us have the ability to watch a movie and feel what the characters are feeling, we can watch other people, sometimes even just in our minds, and we can feel some of what they’re feeling. It’s just a matter of paying attention to the right things.”

  Kelsey closed her eyes, her brows drawn tight. And then she opened them. “I can’t feel what you’re feeling. Or Daddy, either.”

  “I know, honey. It’s hard for most people, because we aren’t aware we have that ability and as we grow up we lose it.”

  “But you didn’t lose it.” It was half question, half statement.

  “No.”

  “Why not? Did your mom teach you?”

  “No.” Meredith sat up straight, waiting for words to come, praying that they would. “I don’t know why,” she said, afraid the answer was too lame. “Some of us just are more emotional than others, I guess, so we’re more aware of the emotions that other people feel.”

  “What am I feeling?”

  You didn’t test the gift. Ever. But you used it for the good of others.

  Meredith took a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly, waited for the calm and then looking Kelsey in the eye said, “You’re a little mad at me. You want to believe what I’m saying, but you aren’t sure you do. And you feel like I’ve let you down. I embarrassed you in front of your friends. You aren’t sure you can trust me. You’re worried that Josie’s going to think you’re weird, too. You feel uneasy. And you’re hungry.”

  The room was completely silent. She couldn’t even hear Mark breathing beside her.

  “How’d I do?” she asked.

  Kelsey didn’t say a word.

  “And now you’re scared,” Meredith added.

  Still watching her, Kelsey nodded. A child she adored was afraid of her. How had she done?

  “THAT WENT WELL,” Meredith said to Mark as soon as Kelsey was settled at Macy’s desk with her homework and he’d closed the door between the two offices.

  Taking the chair his daughter had vacated, Mark pulled a folder from the end of his desk.

  The one with the names of all of those students who wouldn’t be in her class the next day? Or were there so many she wouldn’t have a class?

  “You made a good argument just now,” he finally said. Which was something, coming from him.

  “You did this morning, as well.”

  “Thank you.” Platitudes were nice. Even if they weren’t going to keep her job for her. “I lost my audience when Mr. Larson asked me if I really believed I could feel other people’s emotions, like I was nuts or something—although those folders you passed out with my reviews and letters from grateful parents were great. So was your idea to have Susan there. To listen to her, you’d think I was a saint. And still I lost them.” She hadn’t felt so low in a long time.

  If ever. Losing Frank at the altar hadn’t been as bad as the prospect of losing her life’s work. She tried not to hate Mark Shepherd for calling the question like this, without warning. Without giving her the time to play this one out, to see if Barnett would hang himself, figuratively speaking—or give up. The day before, she’d thought Mark had agreed to give her a chance.

  “Actually, you didn’t,” he said, his brow raised. “Lose them, that is.” His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a bit more disorderly than normal. Mark hadn’t had an easy day, either. “Just as with the television interview, you conducted yourself with such confidence that you instilled it in others.”

  She tried not to get excited, couldn’t afford to feel too much at the moment in case she fell apart in her boss’s office. “How many others?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  She couldn’t believe it. “No one chose to move his child?”

  “Not one parent.”

  Meredith burst out laughing. Not a quiet, amused chuckle, not an appreciative, humorous expression, but a loud, boisterous eruption she couldn’t seem to prevent.

  Mark was polite, serious, but kind, as he escorted her to the door.

  And Kelsey said a mumbled goodbye as she left.

  Feeling like a beggar who’d just been given a gift, Meredith took what she could get—from both of them.

  “HI, SWEETIE. Good news!” Mom held the car door open for Kelsey on Friday, a smile spreading over her face.

  “What?” Kelsey asked, pulling hard so the door would shut behind her. She had good news, too. Josie was her best friend again.

  “I talked to an attorney and he says he’s going to help us, so we can see each other without hiding.”

  “Really?” She wanted that so bad it almost hurt to let herself believe it.

  Her mom brushed at the hairs on Kelsey’s forehead. “Really.” Her eyes looked so sure that Kelsey thought she must be right.

  “Thank you,” she said, nearly crying as she gave her mother a hug. Life had been weird lately, but maybe not anymore.

  “You don’t need to thank me, baby,” her mom said, sounding like she was crying a little, too. “You’re my daughter. You’re supposed to be with me.”

  That was what Kelsey thought, too. Stuff got messed up
, but it was getting better now and that was all that counted.

  “Listen, I need to make a couple of stops,” her mom said when they finally stopped hugging. “My allergies have been bothering me and I’m all out of medicine.”

  “’Kay.” Kelsey didn’t care if they shopped, as long they were together. And her dad didn’t find out.

  The store took a while to get to, since they had to drive for a while to be sure Kelsey didn’t see anyone she knew. And then they wouldn’t let her mother buy as many boxes of allergy medicine as she wanted, even after Mom explained that she lived far away and didn’t have a lot of money for gas. So then they had to go to another store. Mom’s allergies were really bad and her neighbor was reacting to whatever had bloomed, too, so Mom was picking some up for her.

  As they drove, Kelsey told her about Ms. Foster. Mom had seen her on TV and wondered if Kelsey knew her. Kelsey told her mom about Josie and that they were best friends again. Mom listened to every word she said and that was right.

  Kelsey didn’t like keeping secrets from her dad, but how could she be wrong when she was with her mom who loved her and was working it out so Kelsey wouldn’t have to lie?

  “We’ve got half an hour before I take you back to the corner,” Mom said when they’d finished with the third store, which gave her more boxes of pills than the other two had. “Would you mind terribly if we go by my house so I can get this stuff to my friend? She was really feeling bad earlier.”

  Kelsey didn’t want to go there. Mom’s house was dirty and boring, and Don was there. But she wanted to be with her, so she shook her head. “I don’t mind,” she said.

  Mom smiled and turned the car in the direction of her neighborhood. Meredith would have known she didn’t mean it about not minding. Her mom didn’t get it at all.

  Kelsey wasn’t sure which way she liked better.

  SHE STOOD in the living room alone while Mom went out through the garage to the house next door. She was supposed to be sitting and she could turn on the television, but she didn’t feel like doing either. Don wasn’t out on the road with his truck like she’d hoped. And Kelsey didn’t want to see him.