Home To Wickham Falls. Rochelle Alers
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“When did you find the time to make potato salad and potpies?”
“It’s not that much food. I had leftover chicken, so instead of making a salad I decided to make potpies because they’re Colin and Dylan’s favorites.”
Every day of the school year she devoted to a particular task. Saturdays were set aside for cleaning the house and cooking enough meals for the entire week. Although she lived alone and at thirty-one hadn’t had a serious relationship in years, there was never a time when she experienced bouts of loneliness. And now that she’d rescued a black-and-white bichon frisé–poodle mix from a shelter, the house was filled with barking.
Rachel’s voice broke into her musings when she said, “You spoil my boys so much that one of these days I’m going to drop them on your doorstep with a note that you can keep them for the summer vacation.”
Jessica chuckled softly. “That’ll work. I’ll teach them how to grow their own food. And I’m certain they’ll enjoy playing with Bootsy.”
There was a noticeable pause from Rachel before she said, “I know you get tired of hearing it, and you’ve told me more than once that I’m a busybody, but it’s time you think about getting married so you can have a couple of babies and stop spoiling other folks’ kids.”
“You know that’s not going to happen until I meet a man I can trust enough to fall in love with him. Besides, I have a baby who wakes me up every morning while demanding all my attention the moment I walk through the door.”
“I’m not going to fight with you when I say a dog cannot replace—”
“Then don’t!” Jessica retorted angrily. A swollen silence filled the car. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You know why I don’t trust men, so if I really want to become a mother then I’ll adopt.” She drove over a railroad crossing.
“There has to come a time when you have to forgive and forget about the folks who blamed you for testifying against the man who raped your college roommate.”
“You sound like my former therapist.”
Rachel’s laugh came through the speakers. “That’s because we’re each other’s therapist.”
She and Rachel had become each other’s sounding boards and confidantes after Rachel volunteered as a class mother. Once Dylan and Colin were promoted to the third grade, Jessica bonded with their mother. “You’re right, Rachel. But sometimes it’s hard to forget that the man that I loved beyond belief and was engaged to marry blamed me for ruining his best friend and fraternity brother’s life.”
“If he chose his frat brother over you, then you’re better off without him.”
“I know that now.”
“I’ve learned to forgive Mason for not being here for me and our children, because whenever I look at my boys I see him in them. But it wasn’t until after I divorced him that I realized I could make it on my own.”
Signaling, Jessica maneuvered onto the road leading to the interstate. This year, with a dozen teachers retiring, the district had decided to hold the farewell festivities at a hotel a mile off the West Virginia Turnpike. “You have made it, Rachel.”
“Not completely.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I don’t want you to breathe a word of this to anyone, not even my mother, but Sawyer sends me money every month to supplement what Mason sends for child support. I was able to catch up on my bills, pay credit cards and put money into my savings account for the proverbial rainy day. When I tried to talk to him about sending me so much, he says discussing money is gauche.”
“I agree.” Jessica had gone to a prestigious all-girl boarding school, and she’d grown tired of some of her classmates’ bragging about how much money their families had.
“If that’s the case, then you and my brother will get along quite well. Speaking of Sawyer, you’ll probably get to see quite a bit of him because he told my mother he plans to be here until Labor Day. Once Colin and Dylan discover their uncle will be here for the summer they’re going to be as happy as pigs in slop.”
A hint of a smile softened Jessica’s mouth. Her former students weren’t the only ones looking forward to summer vacation, because she’d begun counting the days to the end of the school year. “Good for them. I’m really looking forward for summer break. This year my students have worked my last nerve.”
“No! Not Miss Calm-and-Collected Calhoun.”
Jessica made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “I’ve never before taught a group of students where none of them get along for more than a few hours. It’s like witnessing a reenactment of the Hatfields and McCoys.”
“Damn-m-m,” Rachel drawled.
“No. It’s double damn, because detention or sending them to the principal’s office doesn’t seem to work.”
“I had no idea your students were giving you that much trouble.”
“I suppose I can’t have it easy every year.”
Jessica was also looking forward to the summer because she would spend it in Wickham Falls instead of visiting her parents in Seattle, Washington. Her retired college-professor parents had decided to drive up the coast and tour Alaska for the months of June and July.
“I’m going to hang up now and try to get some sleep.”
“Call me and let me know when your father can have visitors.”
“That probably won’t be until he’s out of ICU.”
“That’s okay. Talk to you later.”
“Later,” Rachel replied.
Jessica disconnected the Bluetooth and then tapped a button for the satellite radio. Instead of her favorite station featuring R & B oldies, she selected one with Rock classics. Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” blared throughout the vehicle. The heavy baseline beat put her in a party mood. Twenty minutes later she left her car with valet parking and walked into the hotel. She almost didn’t recognize the middle school’s physical education teacher in a dress and heels, because sweats and running shoes doubled as her ubiquitous school uniform.
Three teachers with whom she’d formed a close bond walked into the lobby together. They greeted her with hugs and air kisses while complimenting her on her dress and shoes. It was on very rare occasions Jessica was seen in a dress and heels, which did not lend themselves to teaching second graders.
Once a month Jessica got together with Abigail Purvis, Beatrice Moore and Carly Adams—pre-K, kindergarten and first-grade teachers—for a girls’ night out. They alternated eating at her home or in one of the local restaurants before driving to the next town to bowl.
“Let’s go in before they run out of the good stuff,” said Beatrice, who was the most outspoken of the quartet.
Jessica led the way into the ballroom crowded with school board members, administrators, faculty and staff. She took a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. The noise was deafening from laughter and those calling out to one another as glasses were raised in celebratory toasts. She had many more years of teaching ahead of her before she put in for retirement. Her eyes met the high school’s science teacher as he wended his way toward her.
“When do you think we’ll be able to get together to write another grant for the tech lab?” Logan Fowler asked Jessica.
She and Logan chaired the committee that applied for grants to benefit the school district. “Are you available this summer?”
A slight frown furrowed Logan’s smooth forehead. “I thought you were going to the West Coast.”
During the last committee meeting she had announced she was going to spend the summer in Seattle. “That was before