The Wrong Man. Laura Abbot
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THE LAST PERIOD, Kylie seemed slightly more relaxed. She still avoided contact with most of the other children, and even when they found something uproariously funny, she remained glum, detached.
Libby dreaded the end of the day when she’d have to usher the children to the buses and carpools. It would be impossible to avoid Trent, so she’d better get used to the idea of seeing him. Well, she could do that. After all, she had her own life, which included a job she loved, a budding relationship with Doug and a host of friends. The only thing lacking was children. She loved each and every one of her second-graders, but someday, before it was too late, she wanted her own child with a longing that was almost visceral. Maybe it would happen. Doug was perfect father material.
She lined up the children, then led them to the circle driveway in front of the school. After directing the bus riders to the appropriate vehicles, she stood with the remaining children as cars, trucks and SUVs pulled into the pick-up area. And then, there he was, his forehead creased with concern. Libby took Kylie by the hand and helped her into the back seat of his truck. “Did you have a good day?” Trent asked uncertainly.
Kylie shrugged. “Miss Cameron has a cat named Mona.”
Trent looked puzzled by the abrupt change of subject. “She does?”
“She said I could meet her someday. Can I, Daddy? Soon?”
When Trent looked helplessly at Libby, she inwardly berated herself for ever having made the suggestion. Yet much as she wanted to retract her ill-considered invitation, she couldn’t ignore the happily expectant expression on Kylie’s face. “Perhaps you could bring Kylie by the house sometime.”
“How about tonight?” Trent asked, his eyes silently beseeching her. “Kylie could use a friend named Mona.”
“Trent, I…”
“How do you know Miss Cameron, Daddy?”
“Um…”
Determined to avoid discussion of that topic, Libby jumped in. “Tonight would be fine.”
“What if we bring a big pizza and come around six?”
How had this gotten out of hand so fast? Libby’s stomach buzzed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please, Lib.”
After one glance at Kylie’s dancing eyes, Libby reluctantly gave Trent her address, then stepped back, closing the door gently.
Damn. How had he worked his way with her already? Using Kylie, that’s how. Poor kid. Innocently stuck in the middle of a situation that could only go from awkward to hostile. One pizza. One cat meeting. That was it!
Back inside, she sat at her desk studying Kylie’s transfer file. Both achievement records and teacher comments had become increasingly negative over the past year. In early reports Kylie was described as a bright, sunny child by the first-grade teacher, but later comments suggested apathy and unhappiness. Then there were the principal’s remarks, which revealed a recent history of aversion to school. Libby closed the folder, then sat back, staring out the window. What in the world had Trent been thinking? There couldn’t have been a worse time to move Kylie.
But when had Trent ever been known to think about others first? He was all about fun and frivolity, not responsibility. Oh, he was charming, all right. She had to give him that. The heady first months of their marriage had been a whirlwind of laughter and new experiences—not to mention the sex, which had been phenomenal. But Trent had never been cut out to be a husband. At least, not hers.
When, at last, Libby flipped off the lights to her classroom and started down the hall toward the parking lot, Mary stepped out of the office. “How did it go with Kylie Baker today?”
Libby held out her hand, palm down, and waggled it. “Given her history, it could’ve been worse.”
Mary nodded sagely. “Poor little tyke. She’s having to deal with an awful lot. That’s one reason I placed her in your class instead of John’s. She desperately needs a woman’s touch. John is a good teacher, but not the one for Kylie right now.”
If Libby had been given a choice in the matter, would she have accepted Kylie in her class? She chided herself. It was Kylie’s welfare that was important, not hers or Trent’s. “She’s very lonely.”
“I know. With time, we’ll fix that. I have every confidence in you.”
Libby prayed that confidence wasn’t misplaced.
“By the way,” Mary continued, “how are you and Trent Baker acquainted?”
It was all Libby could do not to flinch. But the question was not only natural, it was inevitable. Mary knew she had been married before and had resumed her maiden name, but Libby had never found it necessary to go into detail, even with Doug. That chapter of her life was closed. Or so she had thought. “He’s my ex-husband.”
“Oh.” The syllable dropped into the silence like a stone in a deep well. Libby could almost see the wheels turning as Mary processed the information and its implications.
“We haven’t been in touch since the divorce.”
Recovering quickly, the principal laid a hand on Libby’s shoulder. “Dear, if this will be awkward for you, having Kylie in your class…” She trailed off, the alternative obvious.
The offer was tempting. At least then, Trent would be one step removed from her.
But there was Kylie to consider.
Like it or not, the child had tapped into the main reason Libby was a teacher. Love.
“Thank you, Mary, but I agree with what you said earlier. I think Kylie needs me.”
Libby fervently hoped she was being honest with herself, and that a student’s welfare was her only consideration for keeping Trent’s daughter in her class.
WEEZER WATCHED TRENT and Kylie stomp snow off their boots before they entered her cabin. Kylie immediately looked around. “Hi, Weezer. Where’s Scout?”
“In the kitchen,” Weezer told her, ruffling the girl’s hair. “You two ready for some fresh-baked cookies?”
Trent removed his coat, then took Kylie’s. “You bet.”
Kylie followed Weezer into the kitchen. There by the woodstove lay Scout, fast asleep.
“He’s not much of a watchdog, is he?” Weezer said. “Otherwise he’d have known you were here.” She nudged the dog with her foot. “Wake up, sleepy-head, and let’s hear about Kylie’s school day.”
Trent lounged against the doorjamb, an inscrutable expression on his face. “Go on, sugar. Tell Weezer and Scout all about it.”
Kylie sat down beside Scout, scratching his ears. “The kids were mean.”
Ignoring her uncooperative knees, Weezer knelt on the floor beside the girl. “Tell me about it.”
Slowly Kylie began. “This one boy made fun of me. He said I didn’t know how to ski.”
Weezer nodded. “We can do something about that.”
“And the girls all ran off at recess.”
“Did they invite you to join them?”
Kylie concentrated on burrowing her hands deep in Scout’s fur.
“Kylie? Weezer asked you a question.”
“Uh, yeah.”
Weezer made a show of examining the dog’s paw. “Why didn’t you play with them?”
“I don’t know them.”
“But—” Trent began.
Holding up her hand, Weezer forestalled him. “Let me ask a question. How will you ever get to know them if you don’t give them a chance?”