A Shocking Request. Colleen Faulkner
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“I won. I won,” Amy said, awkwardly waving her score sheet at Jenna. “Look, Jenna, I won the game.” She beamed at her partner. “Mrs. Cannon says I’m a good Yahtzee player.”
The gray-haired woman began to clean up the game. “You’re the best I’ve seen,” she said, obviously genuinely pleased to have Amy there.
It was an arrangement that seemed a gift from God to Jenna. Mrs. Cannon no longer drove and spent most of her time home alone, so she loved having Amy for company. And Jenna was fortunate to have Mrs. Cannon here to keep an eye on Amy whenever she needed her.
“You ready to go home?” Jenna asked her sister. “It’s almost nine and I have homework to do.”
“And I haf to take a shower,” Amy told Mrs. Cannon, rolling her eyes. “Work tomorrow.”
Jenna smiled. Amy worked at the Starfish Academy, too, as an assistant custodian. Her sister loved the job and enjoyed getting up every morning to go to it. Hiring Amy had been a brilliant move on Grant’s part. Before her job at the school, Amy had been working at a shop that employed many mentally handicapped adults, but Amy had been bored there and hadn’t liked it.
At the Starfish Academy she could easily handle the work that mostly included sweeping floors, refilling paper products throughout the school and picking up the grounds. Not only did she like the fact that she was good at her job, but she loved the excitement of being there with the children. Everyone loved Amy at the Academy, and they made her feel as if she were a part of something. With no family left except a brother who lived in Oregon, Jenna and Amy’s family included the children and staff of the school.
“Thanks for having her over,” Jenna said, always careful not to imply that Amy needed to be taken care of. Amy had become very sensitive lately to her own independence.
“You know I love Amy’s company.” Mrs. Cannon slowly rose from the couch as Amy popped up off the floor. “Having her sweet face around keeps me young.”
“We can let ourselves out,” Jenna said, giving the elderly woman a peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” Amy said, giving Mrs. Cannon a sloppy kiss on her other cheek.
Mrs. Cannon smiled. “Good night, dearies. Lock the door behind you.”
“We will.” Jenna ushered Amy out the door, turned the lock, and pulled it soundly shut behind her.
Amy ran across the yard, leaping over a small azalea bush. “Cold out here.”
Jenna followed Amy across the yard. “Not cold, but chilly. It’s late September.” She pointed to the oak and maple trees that lined the street. “You see, the leaves are beginning to fall. Autumn is coming.”
“And we can cut pumpkins,” Amy said happily, clapping her hands.
“That’s right, and we’ll go to the orchard and pick apples and make applesauce.” She opened the door for Amy.
“And Halloween,” Amy squealed.
“And Halloween.”
“And we can get dressed up like ghosties and tell everyone ‘Boo.”’ Amy’s eyes were wide with the same excitement that Becka and Maddy had when speaking of Halloween, but that was okay because it was Jenna’s favorite holiday, too.
Jenna closed the front door behind them and clicked the dead bolt in place. “Go get your shower and hop into bed.”
“Will you read?”
Jenna glanced at her wristwatch. “Amy, it’s late.”
“Please?” Amy clutched her hands together. “Please, Jenna please. I’ll wash real quick.”
“Okay, but a real shower, Amy, with soap and shampoo. I’m serious.”
“All right.” Amy stomped off toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back quick.”
Jenna reached for her backpack to take it to the dining room table where she would cut out apples and stems and worms from paper for her students for tomorrow. “Then just a short book.”
“Inside, Outside, Upside Down,” Amy chanted as she danced down the hallway, her short bobbed haircut swinging.
“Not that book again,” Jenna groaned. Amy loved the Berenstain Bears. “We read that one last night,” she called after her sister who had slipped into the bathroom. But of course, Jenna would read it again. She would do anything for Amy.
While she waited for Amy to finish in the bathroom, Jenna went to the dark kitchen to put on the kettle to make a cup of tea. As she leaned against the counter, she saw in her mind’s eye an image of Grant leaning against his counter tonight, looking at her. He’d had the oddest expression on his face, as if she were a stranger he had just met.
The teakettle whistled and Jenna shrugged as she turned to fill her teapot with boiling water. Men.
“Good morning, Catherine,” Jenna said cheerfully as she walked into the main office of the Starfish Academy the next morning.
“’Morning, Miss Cartwright.”
Jenna smiled as she passed Catherine’s desk on her way to the copy machine. Here at the Academy, every-thing was very informal between the teachers and administrators. Everyone on the staff called everyone else by their first name, even their principal, Grant. Everyone except Catherine Oberton who insisted on using the same titles the children used. She had been Grant’s secretary for more than a year, had known him for almost four, and still called him Dr. Monroe.
Jenna had punched her personal identification number and hit Print to make fifteen copies for her students as Grant came in from a rear door that led to the teachers’ workroom. There was a copier in there, too, but Katie McAllen was hogging it. She hogged it every morning.
“Good morning,” Jenna said to Grant.
He halted and looked at her with a deer-in-the-headlights stare. It was so funny that Jenna almost laughed.
“Grant?” she said. “You okay?”
He ran his hand down his red tie. Grant always wore a red tie, but this one had tiny flowers on it. “Fine, great.” He nearly tripped as he turned to pass her in the small room and the toe of his shoe caught on the corner of a box of paper. Jenna put out her hands to catch him—as if all one hundred and forty pounds of her was going to catch all one hundred and ninety pounds of six-foot-one Grant.
“Easy there,” she laughed, releasing her grip on his arm.
Grant’s face reddened. “Sorry. Excuse me.” He turned again to pass her, and this time made it successfully through the gauntlet.
Jenna turned to watch him retreat. What was going on with him? He was always so in control. Grant Monroe did not trip on boxes of paper. He never had a hair out of place. The man was a deity.
Grant walked into his glass-walled office, and Jenna turned back to the copier that was trying to eat her original. She punched Print again. She had to finish up and get to class. She could already see uniformed cherubs in blue and green kilts and white shirts with navy ties hurrying down the hall to make it to their rooms before the late bell rang.
Jenna walked through the main office and glanced at Grant. He was sitting at his desk, but his door was open. She walked behind Catherine’s desk and stuck her head in Grant’s office.
“You okay?”
He glanced up and his pen slid across the page, dissecting some school form that Jenna guessed did not need to be dissected with a black line. “Fine.”
“The girls okay?” she said slowly, watching him.
“Fine. Great.”
She didn’t believe him, but she had to get to class and she didn’t have time for twenty questions. “Okay then,” she said suspiciously.