Kindergarten Baby: A Novel Page 18

  “Not much to it,” Shelley whispered.

  “There must be something to it, or we wouldn’t be here,” replied Lindsey. “The colorful metallic paint looks nice.”

  Their driver stepped forward with a clipboard and began to read information about the structure‌—‌in a flat monotone. It did little to grasp the interest of most of the onlookers.

  “This is the Northern Lights Tower. It is 88 feet tall, and as you can see, it is painted with many colors. It lights up at night, and it is supposed to replicate the actual Northern Lights, otherwise known as the Aurora Borealis. Any questions?”

  The silence stretched until he spoke again. “March and September are the best months to see the Aurora Borealis in this area because of mild weather and dark skies. Also because the Earth’s orbit is in a zone of maximum solar activity during March and September.”

  No one said anything. The driver cleared his throat. “The old St. Paul’s Episcopal Church is something you might like to see. It’s over a hundred years old.” The group was still fairly quiet and unresponsive. “It was closed in 1978, deconsecrated in 1991, and today it is a Victorian Dress Museum.” Suddenly they were listening enthusiastically.

  Lindsey was the last person in their group to leave the old church and the last person to board the bus. As she was getting in, the bathroom/bus driver/tour guide guy stopped her. “Have you ever seen the Northern Lights? I mean, really seen them, in person?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Tucson skies are anything but dark,” she said.

  “Well, here’s a little tip. Go out tonight between 10:30 and 11:30 and stand about halfway between the barn and the house. There will be just a sliver of a moon. The skies should be as clear as a vitreous column and as dark as a hardwood plank painted with creosote. If you look up, there’s a great chance of seeing the Aurora Borealis.” He smiled. “Just thought you might enjoy that experience.”

  “Oh,” she replied, not entirely sure of what he’d just said. “Thanks for the tip. I just might do that.”

  After a splendid dinner of pumpkin and sausage pasta, Waldorf salad with cabbage, and mocha brownies topped with hazelnut cream, everyone gathered in the meeting area. The room’s ceiling lights were dimmed, the potted evergreens were adorned with shimmering white lights, and the fireplace crackled and glowed a brilliant orange. A hush fell over the group as each participant found a comfortable spot on one of the sofas or chairs, which had been rearranged into several circles rather than half circles.

  Elisabeth, Frank, and Cheryl were part of the circles tonight. From her seat, Elisabeth shared her appreciation for everyone’s participation, for each and every innovation, and for the improved and hopeful future of elementary education. Frank spoke briefly about the wide variety of innovations this year and encouraged everyone to take their ideas to the next level, and find ways to share them with their schools, their districts, and even their states. Cheryl handed out the state award plaques, along with envelopes containing certificates of participation that included the number of hours spent at the conference. Teachers would use these hours when it came time to renew their teaching certificates. Lindsey waited, but no one gave her an envelope.

  “What’s all the excitement about?” she asked the person sitting beside her.

  The smiling woman said nothing but showed her a check for $500.

  “We hope these gifts will help you in your quest to share your innovations with others,” Elisabeth said, smiling.

  Frank, the only man in the place, put up his hand to get their attention. “Why Rugby? Why is Rugby the meeting place for this conference? Anyone willing to take a guess, share their thoughts?”

  One hand went up. “Because there aren’t many distractions here?”

  “That is true and also a great reason, but it’s not the one I’m thinking of.”

  Another hand. “Because you knew this unique barn/conference center was here?”

  Frank glanced around, smiling contentedly. “It is remarkable, isn’t it? But no. It wasn’t here when we first selected this location. I mean, the barn was here, but it was just a barn then, nothing more.”

  Three more brave souls took a stab at answering Frank’s question, but no one got it right. He finally took pity on the group.

  “Rugby was chosen as the location of our Innovative Teacher Awards Conference because…‌it is the Geographical Center of North America.” He paused, then added, “You can decide for yourself what that means to you.”

  No one dared to break the silence that followed.

  “Isn’t silence wonderful for the act of contemplation?” Elisabeth whispered. “But now, forward we must go. Would all eight participants who gave full, oral presentations please come forward?”

  Lindsey bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting anyone to see her hopeful smile. Maybe now she’d receive her certificate and $500 check. She could really use that to start paying off her line of credit loan, thanks to Emmett. While she stood waiting at the front, Frank and Cheryl passed out pieces of paper to everyone still sitting. Then the eight presenters were asked to state their name and the title of their presentation.

  “Those of you with ballots, please vote for your three favorite presentations,” instructed Elisabeth.

  When the voting was complete, Elisabeth thanked the presenters, and invited them to return to their seats. Lindsey and Shelley exchanged looks of disappointment. Surely they would receive something. Or had they already received their reward by being given the honor of making a presentation? An intrinsic reward? How many times had she and the other teachers asked children to be grateful for such a thing?

  Frank explained that in the morning they’d have a nice, early continental breakfast to ensure everyone boarded the buses and made it to the appropriate airport in time to catch their flights. Lindsey glanced at her watch, slightly disappointed. She’d hoped to take advantage of the tip she’d received about the Northern Lights earlier, but it was already 10:45 p.m. and the meeting was not quite over.

  Elisabeth Meriwether walked with measured steps toward the top of the circle. “There is just one more announcement to make before we all retire for the evening.” She paused as if she were searching her mind for the right words. “We haven’t yet spoken of the top award. You’ve all won the state award for Innovative Teacher of the Year, but we also give out a national award. One of the eight presenters will receive that award, so I want you all to know just what that means.

  “The winner of the National Innovative Teacher of the Year Award will have the opportunity to publish her work and present a minimum of four times at different educational conferences over the coming school year. The team will determine which presentation is most marketable, and we will also take into consideration your three favorites, based upon tonight’s ballots. The national winner will be notified on or before June 1st. Good luck, everyone.”

  Lindsey found it difficult to listen during those last few minutes. She knew she had no hope of winning since she was so new to education and public speaking. All she really wanted was to get out and see the Lights. This could be the only time in her life she might see them.

  When they finally were dismissed, she and the other seven presenters were handed their envelopes, and Lindsey breathed a sigh of relief. That $500 would come in handy. She folded the unopened envelope into her coat pocket and headed out into the chilly, dark night, looking for the spot halfway between the barn and the small house. Time to view this curious phenomenon of nature was running out.

  When she was in position, she hugged her arms around herself and gazed into the heavens. “Hello, World,” she whispered to the night sky, “I’m here. I’m ready for the show.” Then it happened, filling the sky with dancing swaths of color, and she couldn’t hold in a squeal. “Oh, my God! I see it!”

  She stood paralyzed, mesmerized by the display of green, red, and blue light, sparkling, shooting, shimmering across the sky. It was brilliantly powerful, yet made no sound. But suddenly there
was a sound. She tensed at the unexpected noise: footsteps coming slowly from behind her. She spun around to face the danger.

  “I hoped you’d come,” the cowboy’s voice was low and smooth. “The Aurora Borealis is spectacular tonight, don’t you think?”

  At first, Lindsey was relieved that it was him, then she wondered if that was the right reaction. After all, she didn’t know this bathroom/bus driver/tour guide guy. It was possible he’d set her up to harm her‌—‌she’d seen weirder things than that in the movies. She backed away from him, but he stood firm between her and the warmth and safety of the barn.

  The cowboy froze. “You’re shaking,” he said. “Here, let me warm you up.” He shrugged out of his large, fleece-lined barn coat, then gently set it on her shoulders, over her own jacket.

  She felt the warmth of it almost immediately, but instead of bringing comfort, it shot her adrenaline through the roof. In the past, she might have fallen for this move, but not anymore. Her distrust of men jumped to the forefront of her mind, and she added his ploy to bring her out here alone, in the dark, to that list. She was going to be smarter with men from now on, she promised herself. She was never going to be that naïve young woman ever again. This was her first chance to prove she had made progress in this area. She shoved the coat off her shoulders and dashed for the barn door, not looking back to see if he followed.

  “Oh, Lindsey!” She heard a voice and spotted Elisabeth standing at the open barn door. “There you are, dear. I looked for you after the meeting…‌but I see you’ve been out enjoying the cold night air—”

  “And the Aurora Borealis,” she added breathlessly.

  Elisabeth gave her a knowing smile, catching sight of the bus driver’s profile. “Well, anyway, I’m glad we met up, because here is your new ticket for your flight home. It leaves out of Bismarck‌—‌on a jet! Thought you’d enjoy a real plane, taking off from a real airport with more than one small runway. So be sure to board the bus to Bismarck tomorrow right after breakfast.”

  “Wow! That’s terrific! Thanks so much, Elisabeth.”

  “I’m happy to do it, Lindsey. Good night, and have a comfortable flight home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The piped-in bird songs the center used as an alarm clock came early, and they were much louder than they had been the previous two mornings. Everyone was up and about, packing and putting on make-up, since today they would reenter civilization.

  “Sleep well?” Shelley asked, rolling out of her bunk.

  “Yes, thank you. I did,” Lindsey replied, folding a shirt into her bag.

  “Me, too.” She watched Lindsey expectantly. “So…‌you came to bed later than most of us. What exciting activity did you find to do?”

  Lindsey decided not to tell her about the happenings of the night before, other than the good news. “Oh, Elisabeth gave me a different ticket for my return trip. No more miniature planes and tiny airports. I get to take a bus ride to Bismarck like most of the other big kids and hop on a jet complete with flight attendants, head and legroom‌—‌and best of all, several bathrooms. I am so happy.”

  “Oh, good. I’m on the bus to Bismarck, too. Let’s sit together. Maybe we’ll see that good-looking bus driver one more time. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Shelley lifted an eyebrow, waiting, but Lindsey shuddered. “Hey,” Shelley said, touching her arm. “What gives?”

  Lindsey relived the night’s encounter for Shelley, but she couldn’t help wondering if she’d been wrong about her interpretation of the man’s intentions.

  Shelley kept her reaction to herself. “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” was all she said.

  Lindsey frowned. Whether he’s the northern plains version of Jack the Ripper or just a really nice, thoughtful guy, I hope he’s not the one driving me to the airport. I don’t want to face him either way.

  He wasn’t in the driver’s seat when she climbed aboard the bus, but once she was seated in the plane, there he was, right across the aisle from her. Her palms went damp with nervous sweat. Was he stalking her? No, that couldn’t be…‌or could it? She didn’t know what to think. She pretended to look for something in her purse to avoid making eye contact with him. Eventually, after the flight attendant asked passengers to store their items, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. This worked for a while…‌until a large, warm hand touched her forearm.

  “Hey, you’d better fasten your seatbelt. That flight attendant headed this way seems like a stickler for the rules,” the cowboy said, grinning.

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “Are you feeling all right? I thought maybe you were ill last night, after you ran off like that.”

  “I’m fine. Just needed to get back inside,” she replied, though she knew her tone was unconvincing.

  The woman occupying the seat on Lindsey’s other side noticed the man, and she smiled across at him. “Hi, I’m Christy. I don’t remember your name‌—‌did you tell us?”

  “I can’t remember if I did,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly. “This whole thing was pretty new to me. I’m not used to driving a busload of women around, let alone giving them talks about the local sights. So I apologize if I left that part out. I’m Martin Mackelroy. My friends call me Marty.”

  “So what were you doing in Rugby?” Christy asked, her flirting voice sweet as honey. “Surely you weren’t flown in just to drive fifty teachers around for a couple of days.”

  “No, you’re right about that. I come up to visit my mother and younger brother at least four times a year. This time I got roped into helping out at the conference since the regular guy had a family emergency and wasn’t available. My younger brother works the conferences, but he’s not allowed to be a commercial driver until he turns eighteen. So you all got stuck with me.”

  Lindsey kept her eyes closed, but she listened as Martin answered all of Christy’s questions, telling her how he spent most of his time in the Phoenix area running an architectural firm—his architectural firm. Apparently his specialty was designing homes, offices‌—‌and yes, conference centers for families and businesses desiring western or southwestern architecture.

  She opened her eyes. “So you designed the barn?”

  He nodded, seeming pleased that she’d joined in the conversation. “That was a special project for my mother and my little brother. They wanted to stay in Rugby and needed to make some money.”

  “Do your mother and brother live in the small house?” asked Christy.

  “Yep, and when I come home to visit, it’s crowded,” he said. His laugh was easy and relaxed. “The bunk beds worked fine years ago but not now. I stay in the barn when there are no conferences. That works out well.”

  The more he spoke, the more Lindsey wondered if she’d been all wrong about him the night before. If so, she was awfully embarrassed. How could she explain her actions? Fortunately, her dilemma remained on hold, because Martin closed his eyes for the next hour of the flight. When they arrived at Sky Harbor in Phoenix, they were behind schedule, leaving her little time for boarding her connecting flight to Tucson. In fact, she and several other passengers were allowed to deplane first, due to the short time in which they had to catch their flights.

  The airport was bustling with commuters, and it seemed everyone was in her way. To her surprise, Martin waited at her gate and was already leaning casually against a pillar when she dashed up, out of breath. How had he done that? She had no time to ask, since her flight was boarding. Most of the passengers were already on board.

  Martin stopped her just before she went through the gate. “Hey, there,” he said, sounding a little shy. He handed her a familiar-looking envelope. “You dropped this while you were making your quick getaway. Listen, I don’t know your name, but I do know that I like you. I do. At the risk of appearing too forward, I wrote my cell phone number and my email on the back.”

  “Ma’am?” the airline attendant said, ushering Lindsey forward.

  “I’m coming to Tucson in two weeks
,” Martin called before she disappeared, “and I’d love to take you to dinner. If that sounds good to you, let me know.”

  Looking over her shoulder at him, Lindsey shoved her conference envelope deep into her jacket pocket and watched him stroll confidently away, cowboy hat and all.

  The next morning arrived far too soon, but Lindsey jumped out of bed the instant her alarm rang. She was tired, but she couldn’t wait to get to school, talk to Laura, and get ready to face the children. Laura had called her a couple of times when she’d been away, ranting about the kinder kids getting out of hand, and Lindsey wanted to find out what had been going on.

  Without much thought to fashion, she threw on a long sleeved white T-shirt, a black corduroy vest, and a long khaki skirt. She called Jake’s cell to see if he could bring the animals over, and when he didn’t answer she left a message. Then she grabbed her book bags and ran out the front door. She purchased a café mocha from the local Starbucks, figuring that would tide her over till lunch, then she stopped by the office to pick up her mail, and found a note to call Bobby’s grandmother. There was also one from Laura, saying she was exhausted and needed a day of rest. She said she would see Lindsey tomorrow. That made Lindsey smile. It confirmed her theory that primary classroom teachers had the most challenging, complex, and sometimes toilsome job in education. And yet no other job offered so many moment-to-moment opportunities to make a difference in so many young lives.

  “Ms. Lindsey! Ms. Lindsey! You’ve been gone forever,” lamented a couple of the girls as they entered the classroom.

  “We got to watch the TV every day,” Armando shared.

  “Were you sick?” Emma asked. “You always tell us to stay home if we’re sick”

  Lindsey shook her head, smiling at her students. She’d missed them. “No, I wasn’t sick. I was at a conference.”

  “Oh,” said Joseph, nodding sagely. “A really long parent conference, I bet. Someone’s in big trouble.”