by L. M. Pruitt
“Well, Mr. Conway is in luck because Miss Suzie Q is teaching kindergarten this year.” Dana’s smile was easily as bright as mine although hers looked as if it might actually be genuine. She turned to Conway, bracing her elbows on the counter and leaning toward him. “You know Miss Suzie Q from Sunday school, don’t you?”
When Conway didn’t answer right away, I gave him a small bounce. “Remember the conversation we had about answering adults when they ask you a question?” At least I thought we’d had the conversation. I’d certainly intended to talk to him about his tendency to act as if he didn’t have a tongue. Having an unexpected visit from the social worker because my nephew didn’t believe in being a chatterbox was most definitely toward the bottom of my massive to-do list. “Can you answer Miss Dana, please?”
“Yes. I know Miss Suzie Q.” His thumb started to creep toward his mouth and I grabbed it, determined to keep him from acquiring that particular habit. He took a second to scowl at me before telling Dana, “She’s very nice. She said she liked my dress.”
“Well, it’s a very pretty dress.” Whether Dana was simply being polite or was being sincere was up for debate but she wasn’t making snide comments so I figured we were doing good. Shifting her attention back to me, she said, “Do you remember where the kindergarten classroom is or do you need a map?”
“I’m thinking a map would probably be for the best.” I hadn’t been in the elementary school for over twenty years and I didn’t think anyone would appreciate me wandering in to the wrong classroom. I took the poorly photocopied map from her and said, “Thanks, Dana. Uh, is there any paperwork I need to fill out or bring in or...?”
“No, your sister took care of all of that when she enrolled him at the beginning of the summer.” She flashed both of us a smile. “Have a good first day, Conway. If you need someone to sit with, Jamie is in Miss Suzie Q’s class, too.” Some of my confusion must have shown because she added, “My son. It’s his first day, too.”
“Oh, okay.” Apparently everybody and their brother from my graduating class had reproduced at some point in the last fifteen years with the exception of me. And Abraham. I turned and pulled the door open, managing to not fall on my ass this time, taking a second to glance over my shoulder and say, “Thanks, Dana. I’ll see you around.”
I wasn’t quite willing to extend an olive branch, not the way I had with Beth, but I had a soft spot for single moms working two jobs.
A few minutes later, I was standing outside the kindergarten classroom, Conway still wrapped around me like a limpet. I squeezed him tight and looked down at him. “Are you ready?”
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes huge and solemn. “Are you?”
“Probably not but I’m pretty sure we can’t put this off for another day.” I smoothed his hair down, wondering when and why my hands had started shaking. “Let’s do this.”
I reached for the doorknob, jerking back when the door flung inward from the opposite side, revealing a tiny fairy of a woman, as pink and pretty as cotton candy with a voice like tiny bells when she spoke. “There you are, Conway! Look at your dress! It’s adorable! And it matches your eyes!”
“Thank you.” He gave her a shy smile before burying his face in my shoulder.
“Sorry we’re late—I had to stop by the office and find out where we were going.” I hugged Conway tighter, wondering vaguely if he was shaking or if it was me. “I’d offer a hand but they’re both full at the moment.”
“Oh, it’s no worry at all. New things are always a little scary.” Miss Suzie Q—and I was going to die of curiosity if I didn’t find out the reason why she was called that—went from bright and perky to as mournful as a puppy left outside for a minute too long, her big caramel colored eyes filling up with sympathy. Clapping her hands together and following suit with her kitten heels, she said, “Conway, why don’t you go put your backpack on the hook with your picture and then go sit down with the others? We’ve still got a few minutes before we officially start the day and I think your aunt wants to talk to me.”
“Right.” I knelt, setting him on his feet and helping him smooth out the wrinkles in his dress, the one he and Abraham had picked out together in Savannah. Tucking a slightly too long strand of hair behind his ear, I said, “I’ll pick you up this afternoon, okay?”
“Abraham, too?”
“I don’t know, I’ll have to ask him. He may have work to do.” I kissed his cheek, wondering where the hell all the knots in my stomach had come from and how I was supposed to get rid of them. I straightened and hand him his backpack, nudging him toward the wall of hooks and cubbies. “Have the day you have.”
“Well, that’s an interesting way to put things.” Miss Suzie Q laughed, hooking her arm through mine and steering me toward her desk tucked in the corner. “All the other parents have told their kids to be smart and work hard and so on.”
“That’s a lot of pressure for the first day of anything, let alone kindergarten.” I stared at the toddler-sized chair in front of her desk before looking at her. “Uh, I don’t think it would be good for my ego to try and sit in that.”
“If it makes you feel better, my own ego took quite the beating when I got down there and had to have help to get up.” She laughed again, flipping her cloud of near jet black curls behind her shoulder and beaming at me. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Dana mentioned you teach Sunday school so I’m assuming you’re used to Conway’s wardrobe preferences.” When she only continued to smile, I said, “It’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
“Why would it?” She took a step toward me and lowered her voice. “I’m not from Cotton Creek, Ms. Jackson, and I got my bachelor’s in education from Emory down in Atlanta. I don’t think I’m bragging when I say I’m a little more open-minded than some of the people here in town.”
“More like stating God’s honest truth.” And while the knots in my stomach loosened some, they didn’t dissolve completely. Leaning one hip against her desk, I crossed my arms and studied her. “How’d you wind up in Cotton Creek, then? Not to speak ill of my fellow town folk but Cotton Creek isn’t exactly down for its multi-cultural, inclusive society.”
“Well, my parents moved us here my junior year of high school and they’re still here. And so is my fiancé.” She shrugged, offering another sunny smile. “Figured I might as well start my own family here. Maybe I’ll stay, maybe I won’t, but I’m going to work while I’m here.”
“Understood.” I glanced over at Conway, engaged in what appeared to be a very serious conversation with a little boy who bore more than a passing resemblance to Dana, although his coloring was shades darker. “I put a change of clothes in his backpack—pants and a shirt, I mean—in case someone starts to make fun of him and he gets uncomfortable.”
“I have a very strict no-bullying policy in my classroom.” Before I could ask about outside the classroom, she said, “And the kindergarteners have a separate playground from the rest of the kids so they don’t get pushed around and ran over.”
“Okay.” The knots were almost completely gone now and I realized with no small sense of relief that my hands had stopped shaking. “Still, you know how kids can be.”
“Yes, I do, which is why I consider it part of my job to teach them to not be that way just because someone is different from them.” She paused only to wrinkle her nose and say, “I probably could have phrased that differently.”
“No, you’re fine. It’s fine.” I looked at Conway one last time before pushing off the desk and walking toward the door. “I’ll pick him up this afternoon.”
“We’ll be right here.” She clapped her hands together and raised her voice. “Okay, everybody! Are we ready for our first ever day of school?”
The door clicked shut behind me, cutting off whatever response the twenty-odd kids started to give her. I made it all the way through the elementary school and main building and was halfway across the parking lot when I realized tw
o things—one, I had no idea where Abraham was.
And two, I was crying.
Not big, weepy, snot-nosed crying. But I was definitely teary.
“Jeannie!” I had about five seconds to process it was Beth calling my name before she swooped down on me, clucking her tongue and fussing over me like a mother hen. “Oh, honey. The first day is always the roughest.”
“I have no idea why I’m crying.” I took the tissue she all but shoved in my hand, patting my cheeks dry while waving my other hand in front of my eyes in an attempt to combat the stubbornly persistent tears. “It’s not like he’s going off to war. It’s just kindergarten.”
“Honey, I wept like a baby every last time I dropped one off. Ben refused to go with me when it was time for our youngest to start—stashed a whole box of tissues in my purse and sent me on my way.” She pursed her lips, her gaze sliding past me to some point in the distance. “Doesn’t look as if you’re the only one feeling a little emotional this morning.”
“Beth.” Abraham pressed a kiss to the top of my head before reaching out and grabbing a handful of tissues, blowing his nose with a great big honk of noise. “You might have warned me Dolly was a weeper.”
“You’re joking.” When he simply stared at me, I scrubbed one hand over my face. “Oh, God. I have to go check on her.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Beth grabbed my elbow, holding me in place when I would have started for the school entrance. “I promise you, she’s fine. If you go in there now, you’re only going to upset both of you.” Patting my shoulder, she said, “What you need is a good breakfast and a drink.”
“Yes, please.” I glanced up at Abraham. “Are you coming, too?”
“I never pass up a chance to drink mimosas, especially if I don’t have to make them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
When Beth invited us to breakfast, I’d been half suspecting we were meeting up with a group of other parents, something which would have required me to smile and be polite and pretend I hadn’t shed a few more tears on the drive to the restaurant. The only reason I wasn’t particularly embarrassed about the emotional breakdown was the fact Abraham sniffled as he navigated the unusually busy streets to the steakhouse, which apparently did a special ‘back to school’ breakfast for parents. After he pulled the car in to a space on the side of the building and killed the engine, he said, “I have so much respect for people who do that every single year without losing their mind.”
“I still don’t know why I’m crying.” I yanked the visor down, sighing in frustration when I saw my reflection—splotchy face, red eyes, streaky mascara. It would take a lot more than the few supplies I had in my purse to make me look as if I was a put-together adult. “Conway was perfectly fine. He was busy talking with Dana’s son—who shocked the hell out of me by manning the school desk and being polite on top of it—and couldn’t have given two fucks that I was leaving him there with strangers.”
“I wish Dolly had been as stalwart.” He grabbed a few more tissues from the pack Beth had given us, blowing his nose before balling them in his fist and turning to glare at me. “She was just chattering away, talking about giraffes, happy as a lark, and then we got to the classroom and you’d have thought I was dropping her off at an asylum where she’d have to spend the rest of her days.”
“Oh, God.” I couldn’t help myself. Something about the way he was describing the situation had giggles welling up from deep inside. “She didn’t fall to her knees and wail, did she?”
“No, but she did wrap herself around my legs so tight I thought she was going to accidently break a bone or two.” He narrowed his eyes, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “I really hope you’re not laughing at me or the situation.”
“Not you.” I tried to swallow another bout of giggles and failed. “Just the picture of Dolly crying and begging you not to leave her and poor Mrs. Sheriff Pete doing her best to get everything under control before Dolly sets of the other kids in the classroom.”
“Again, you’re laughing but by the time I managed to pry Dolly off me, there were another half dozen kids having hysterics. The couple of parents who came in after me gave me the dirtiest fucking looks imaginable, as if I’d purposefully tried to start a riot of miniature sized people.” He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat. Reaching over, he rested his hand on my knee and squeezed. “I really wanted to take you back to your house and fuck some of the stress away but I’m not ashamed to admit I’m not feeling it right this second.”
“So you’re not immune to the tears of women.” I slid over, resting my chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.”
“Very funny.” He sighed again before turning to face me, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine and laughing when I squealed and jerked back. “Let’s go eat breakfast like the other parents, see if I can recover some of the energy those tears sucked out of me. The tears of women, especially little ones, are like kryptonite.”
“Well, that’s okay. I’ve always thought dating Superman would kind of suck for the other person.” I got out of the car, shrugging in to my lightweight jacket, using my hip to close the door. Rounding the front of the car, I waited for Abraham to join me on the sidewalk before continuing. “Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“I was thinking about it.” Much like I’d done with Conway, Abraham tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, smoothing the lines of my jacket in to place. “Okay, I’m curious. Why would dating Superman suck?”
“He’s faster than a speeding bullet.” I paused a beat, lifting my brows and widening my eyes when he stared at me, his expression completely deadpan. “Come on. Tell me you get it.”
“I get it.”
“Then why aren’t you laughing?”
“Maybe it wasn’t funny.” Even as he spoke, one corner of his mouth twitched upward for the briefest of seconds before he repressed it. “Are we waiting for Beth or going inside?”
“You’re trying so hard not to laugh you’re gonna wind up hurting yourself.” I poked him in the ribs, snickering when he jerked away. “Uh-oh. Don’t tell me you’re ticklish.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you.” Before I could poke him again, he grabbed me and wrapped me in a bear hug, rocking me from side to side. “By the way, you owe me big for this morning. I’m thinking costumes. Maybe handcuffs.”
“Well, hell, sounds like y’all are having a better morning than me.” There was enough of a drawl in Beth’s laughing comment to keep it from being snide or sarcastic but my spine still stiffened almost automatically. Abraham’s response was to tighten his grip, as if he had some psychic inkling I was going to try and pull away. Stopping on the sidewalk next to us, she used the flat of her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, studying me for a moment before saying, “I’ve got a few of those makeup remover wipes if you want to finish getting rid of the mascara. Won’t do a thing for the red but since about half the parents in there are going to look the same it won’t matter.”
“That would be great, thanks.” I waited while she dug in her oversized purse, taking the wipe from her and scrubbing my face ruthlessly until I was certain there were no traces of makeup left. Balling it up and shoving it in my pocket, I said, “Better?”
“Honey, if I looked as good after a bout of crying as you do, I’d cry every minute of every day.” She pried me out of Abraham’s grip, linking my arm with hers and half steering, half dragging me to the front door of the steakhouse. “Now, do you want me to introduce you to a few of the other parents whose kids are in class with Conway or Dolly or do you want to get liquored up on cheap champagne and orange juice from concentrate?”
“Most definitely the latter.” I glanced over my shoulder at Abraham, following a few discreet feet behind us. “Liquored up, right?”
“Please and thank you.” He jogged ahead, opening the door and holding it for us, offering an over the top bow as he ushered us inside. “La
dies, I insist.”
“If you can manage to hold on to your sense of humor after the first day of school drop-off, you’ll do just fine.” Beth patted my hand and shot me a sympathetic smile. “Now, keep that steel spine of yours in place for a few more minutes.”
Before I could ask her what she meant, the horde descended on us.
To be fair, the group which swamped us was more interested in Beth than they were in me, although more than a few went out of their way to introduce themselves before plowing full steam in to a conversation about cheerleading or marching band or debate or drama club or.... I tuned out after that, nodding and smiling while Beth answered questions or set up meetings or in general ran the entirety of the school without so much as a notepad in front of her. I looked around for Abraham only to find him already occupying a booth, three questionable looking mimosas on the table in front of him. If I’d been able to slip out of Beth’s iron grip, I would have joined him and chugged down all three. As it was, I had to wait until Beth answered enough questions to put a politician on the campaign trail to shame, all but collapsing against Abraham when we finally made our way to the booth.
“Sorry, I didn’t think it would take even close to that long.” Beth plopped down opposite me, snagging one of the cloudy champagne flutes and knocking back the contents in one long swallow. All but slamming the glass on the table, she leaned back in her seat and sighed. “Lord but did I need that.”
“I’m sorry but I have to ask—what exactly do you do?” When she blinked once in obvious question, I continued. “I mean, for work. Because if the last five minutes were any indication you have the organizational skills of a computer ran by NASA and I really hope you’re putting them to use in some way.”