A Child's Wish. Tara Quinn Taylor
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Stuff. Uh-huh. For the first time since his daughter’s birth, Mark felt completely incapable of caring for her.
“What kind of stuff?”
“You know,” she said, having a stare down with him. “Girl stuff.”
He almost choked. Did girls start that stuff at nine? He’d thought he had more time….
And then he caught the uncertainty in Kelsey’s innocent gaze. The child was out of her league.
At least they still had something in common.
“You don’t want to tell me.”
“Nope.”
“Is everything okay?”
She glanced over at him and then away. “Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”
He had no idea.
“Have you ever tried to talk to Susan about some of this ‘stuff’?”
Kelsey’s silence said far too much.
Watching her for another minute, thinking over everything he knew about child development and patterns of behavior, Mark figured it was best to cut his losses for the moment. He pulled back onto the road and drove the rest of the way to school in silence.
And the first thing he did when he arrived was phone Lucy’s mom to say that Kelsey wouldn’t be coming on Friday, after all. Then he called Susan and cancelled dinner that night. As always, she was understanding.
MEREDITH STOOD AT THE DOOR to her classroom, dressed in a red turtleneck sweater and a black cotton shift that featured a colorful shoe print. She’d opted for hose and pumps in honor of a new week, and her gold shoe earrings, necklace and charm bracelet completed the day’s ensemble. Smiling, looking forward to Monday morning, she welcomed each student as the kids slowly filed in, shouted greetings at classmates, put backpacks in lockers, took their seats or a place at one of the computers against the far wall or stopped to chat with a friend.
“Good morning, Erin. How was your weekend?” Meredith asked a tiny red-head who, though the smallest in the class, had proven to be one of the most rambunctious. If there was trouble, Erin usually found it.
Innocently, but completely.
“Boorrringgg,” Erin sang, knocking her backpack into Jeremy Larson as she passed on her way to her locker.
“Hey!” Jeremy shoved back.
“Hold it!” Meredith’s voice stopped all movement in the classroom. “Jeremy, what’s the first rule of this classroom?”
The boy turned red and looked down. Then he mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Meredith asked, aware of the eyes turned in her direction, but focusing only on the boy.
“Don’t hit.” He refused to look at her.
That wasn’t it, exactly. “And?”
“Don’t be mad.”
That wasn’t it, either, not exactly. But he was close.
“Do you think Erin bumped into you on purpose?”
Jeremy shifted from foot to foot, his chin tucked down on his chest. He was one of the kids who caused her the greatest concern. He had far too much pent-up anger. But she had no idea why. He came from a good family—lots of siblings, support, closeness. She’d taught an older sister and a brother of his, so far. Knew both of his parents well enough to be completely comfortable with them.
“I didn’t,” Erin blurted out, as Jeremy remained silent.
“Jeremy?” Meredith said again, smiling as another couple of students shuffled in, eyes wide at the silence so early on a Monday morning. “Do you think she did it on purpose?”
“No.”
“Good. Erin? Do you have anything to say?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Meredith bit back a smile. “You already said that. What else?”
“I’m sorry.” The boisterous little girl spoke so softly she could barely be heard. But because of the earliness of the day and because of the kids still coming in, Meredith chose to accept the apology, thin as it was. She watched long enough to see that the kids were separated by half the room and then turned back to the door.
“Macy! How long have you been standing there?”
Mark’s secretary, Macy Leonard, was one of Meredith’s heroes. Calm and unflappable, the plump fiftyish woman exuded good nature.
Usually.
“What’s wrong?” Meredith asked more softly, reaching the other woman’s side.
“You’ve been summoned.” Her voice was low, serious. Concern shadowed her soft blue eyes.
With a quick look up at the loudspeaker directly over her head Meredith said, “I didn’t hear anything.”
Macy shook her head, her short gray curls stiff with spray. “He sent me. I’m supposed to stay with the kids.”
Her chest tightened. “He wants me to come right now?” Before she’d called roll or set the kids to work?
Macy nodded.
“Why?” Meredith asked, attempting to quell the nerves in her stomach. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking her head, the older woman gave Meredith’s hand a brief squeeze. “I don’t know, honey, but judging by the look on his face when he came from his office it’s probably best not to keep him waiting.”
“I used to think he was such a happy guy,” Meredith said softly, a bad attempt to make light of the situation. Better that than let her nerves have their way. That was never good.
With a quick clap of her hands, Meredith called her class to their seats, told them that Macy was in charge and moved after-lunch reading to first thing in the morning.
She’d never been called to Mark’s office twice in one month. Never two school days in a row.
She’d phoned both of the Barnetts as she’d promised to. And she hadn’t spoken to a single parent—or student, for that matter—since she’d gone home on Friday.
Hurrying down the hallway she tried her best not to fret, not to make a big deal out of something that would probably be nothing.
But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what would require an early Monday morning summons. As a rule, a teacher never left her classroom if there were students in it, unless there was an emergency. The kids always took precedence over administrative business.
Had she talked to any other parents recently? Said anything that could have backfired and caused friction? She didn’t think so. Couldn’t remember if she had.
So who was missing that morning? She turned the corner, mentally checking her roster, praying there’d been no accidents or emergency surgeries over the weekend—nothing that she’d have to prepare her students to face.
Other than Tommy Barnett, she was pretty sure everyone had arrived before she’d left the room. And Tommy was always five to ten minutes late.
Mark was standing behind his desk, staring out the big metal-framed window that took up most of one wall. The lush green trees that Bartlesville was known for were in full spring bloom, but Meredith was pretty sure, judging by the tense way Mark was holding his shoulders and neck, that he wasn’t finding any joy in their beauty.
“Did you see the editorial section in the Republic this morning?” He spoke with his back to her.
“No.” Her heart started beating heavily, blood pounding so hard she could almost feel its passage. Had there been an accident?
Mark’s