Kindergarten Baby: A Novel Page 20
This check meant that Lindsey’s looming financial woes—courtesy of Emmett’s hurtful, criminal actions—would at least be taken care of for the next three months. She carefully attached the envelope to her refrigerator with a cactus magnet made by one of her former students, then noticed Martin’s email and phone number written on the back.
Feeling upbeat and optimistic once again, she considered calling him. Going out to dinner would be fun, and she really needed an evening out. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” she told Malcolm, and he chirped his approval.
The dinner date was set for the following Wednesday evening. Martin had offered to pick her up, but Lindsey requested that he meet her at the Coyote Café instead, since she was making a conscious effort to play it safe where men were concerned. She’d chosen the location because it was close to her house, she knew several of the regulars, and Jake had worked Wednesday nights before, so there was a chance he would be there as well.
On her way in, Lindsey almost bumped into Jake.
“Hey, Lindsey! Good to see you! Are you finally taking a break from all your hard work? Come on over. The drinks are on me.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Jake. I’ve missed you, too.” For a moment Lindsey was tempted to ask if he’d been working at the Chinese Restaurant last Thursday and if so, why hadn’t he made the delivery, but she didn’t. “But actually, I’m meeting someone tonight.”
“I haven’t seen Laura yet.”
“Oh, I’m not meeting Laura this time,” she said, feeling awkward. “I’m meeting a gentleman.”
Jake tilted his head at the man seated at the bar, and Lindsey nodded when she recognized Martin.
“Hey, there you are, looking as lovely as usual,” Martin said, standing to help her onto the barstool.
“Hi, Martin. It’s good to see you. What’s it been? Nine, ten days?” she teased feeling comfortable around him already.
He chuckled. “The bartender has picked out a special table for us in the dining area.”
“Really?” She shot Jake a questioning eye. “The bartender is giving us a special table? That’s interesting.”
Strangely, she was disappointed that Jake didn’t appear to be the least bit jealous about her date with Martin. That was a ridiculous idea, though. Jake was more like a brother to her. Laura was to be Jake’s love interest someday—maybe.
They had a good time, and when Martin asked if she would join him on Sunday to visit the Sonora Desert Museum, she didn’t hesitate to say yes. In her mind she rationalized the outing easily: her class of kindergarteners was in the midst of rehearsing for their Desert Performance, so perhaps she would gather a few new ideas for the show. Besides, she felt at ease with Martin—though she’d still be cautious.
At the evening’s conclusion, Martin walked Lindsey to her car. Once she sat safely in the driver’s seat, he reached through the open car window and gently touched her cheek with his fingertips. His fingers slid through a few strands of her long, brown hair, hanging loose by her ear, and she shivered at the sensation. Then he said a simple, quiet goodnight and tipped his cowboy hat as he backed away…leaving Lindsey speechless.
***
The students were grouped into four categories: the Kangaroo Rats, the Rattlesnakes, the Coyotes, and the Tortoises. The Kangaroo Rats were enthusiastically chanting, I’m a Kangaroo Rat, a ratty, tat, tat! when Sally, the office manager, entered the classroom carrying a large bouquet of flowers.
“We have a special delivery for Ms. Lindsey. Is there anyone here by that name?” she joked.
The kids were thrilled to help. “She’s right there. That’s her. That’s Ms. Lindsey!” they shouted.
“Wow! Look at the flowers!” Emma cried. “So beautiful!”
“Thank you, Ms. Sally. You’re right, Emma. They are beautiful. Did they just arrive?” Lindsey asked.
“About fifteen minutes ago,” Sally replied, leaving the room. Then she poked her head back in to the classroom. “They were delivered by a driver from the Tucson Florist, so none of us knows who they’re from. If you want to share that info later, we wouldn’t mind.”
The arrangement was gorgeous, lush with reddish-orange Indian Blanket flowers, Mexican Gold Poppies, pinkish-purple Desert Penstemons, and a few sprigs of white Arizona Rosewood and purple Desert Sage. Her stare slid toward the attached card.
Dear Lindsey,
Thank you for two incredible dates.
I hope we can have many more.br
As it turns out, I will be in town next Saturday.
Let’s get together.
Martin
CHAPTER THIRTY
Despite Shawna’s objections, Anthony returned to work the day after they landed in Tucson. He thanked Shawna’s co-worker, Tara, for her help, then called Mrs. Madera, hoping she’d returned from her trip to Denver. Unfortunately, the call went unanswered. He’d get by—he had to.
No patients were scheduled for the next three days. He planned to spend the time going over the books, patient records, and files, things he hadn’t taken the time to do before. Now, since Shawna was homebound due to her ankle injury, Anthony was able to focus on his practice, which was something he’d neglected for several months. Shawna had zero tolerance for pain, and he knew she would continue to ingest pain medication like jellybeans until every last twinge of pain vanished, meaning his time was his own. At least for the duration of her discomfort.
Anthony had paid little attention to bookkeeping in the past, primarily because he had Mrs. Madera. She was magnificent with money, people, and paperwork. But now, as he looked over the books, common sense told him something was very, very wrong. He could find no evidence of any cash payments having been brought in the entire time he was away, and little evidence of checks arriving by mail or in person. He found only one deposit of $380 in checks sitting in the desk drawer. He called the bank to see what other deposits had been made during his absence, and discovered, to his dismay, that no money had gone in. There had to be an explanation. Clenching his fists, he paced across his office and grabbed the phone.
“Shawna, pick up. Pick up now!” he growled. “We’ve got to talk.”
Of course, she didn’t answer. Sleeping, probably. He’d try again in a little while. He continued to pace, fueled by a hot anger building deep inside him. He wasn’t accustomed to being a victim, and he absolutely refused to be the victim of a thief. He suspected Shawna’s friend, Tara, had something to do with the missing funds since she’d been the only one there. All he could do was hope and pray that Shawna was not involved.
Even the office plants had been ignored while he was gone. He headed into the bathroom to fill a watering can but was interrupted by someone pounded on the door. Curious, he poked his head around the corner.
“Mrs. Madera!” he cried, thrilled to see her. “Thank God you’re back.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been driving by here every day since I was told to stay away, and I—”
He frowned. “You weren’t in Denver visiting your grandchildren?”
She set one hand on her hip, looking impatient. “Dr. Sommerfield, my grandchildren are in San Diego, and, no, I wasn’t visiting them. I was worried sick about you. That woman told me you were taking an extended vacation and my services would not be needed for quite a while. I tried to call you the very next day, but no one answered your home phone, and the message machine never came on.”
Anthony felt suddenly as thirsty as the plants. He licked his lips, but it didn’t help. Since the facts about Mrs. Madera’s whereabouts were a complete lie, he had to wonder about other fabrications. Suddenly, his thirst was not for liquid, but for knowledge.
He explained that he had been on a vacation—a surprise vacation—and that he had mistakenly assumed that she would be in the office holding down the fort. It wasn’t until he’d confronted Shawna about the details that he’d learned a friend of hers was doing the “holding.”
Mrs. Madera scowl
ed with disapproval. “Well, there was a ‘lady’ in here,” she confirmed, stressing the word as if it were difficult to say. “The first few days I knocked on the door, but she just pointed to the ‘Closed’ sign and went back to her desk—I mean my desk.”
“Why didn’t you use your key?”
Her expression softened with regret. “I don’t have it anymore, Dr. Sommerfield. She took it from me when she told me you’d be gone and the office would be closed. I am so sorry. I should have done more. I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what to do. That’s why I kept driving by, hoping to see you here.”
“Mrs. Madera, the lady that took your key and told you to go…was it Shawna?”
“Oh, no, Dr. Sommerfield. It was the same lady that came here every day. I assumed she was from a Temp Agency,” she replied. She pulled a large envelope from her purse, looking slightly nervous. “I did do one thing, though. I hope you’re not mad.”
Anthony chuckled at her odd smile. “And what might that be?”
“Well, after that first week, I came by every day and intercepted the mail for you. That nice mail lady simply handed it over to me right out there by the curb, and here it is.”
Anthony was relieved on two counts. First, more than likely, his only loss was several weeks’ worth of cash payments. Second, bringing Tara on board could have been Shawna’s only direct involvement.
Note to self: give Mrs. Madera a raise.
With renewed energy, they got right to work. Mrs. Madera looked over the books while Anthony contacted a locksmith—new security measures would be in place before the end of the day. Afterward, he would call Shawna again. If that failed, he’d go home to speak with her in person. He’d get to the bottom of this somehow.
But when he got home, all he came up with were more questions.
“Shawna?” Anthony called as he walked toward their bedroom.
He heard a faint voice responding from across the hall. “Here. I’m over here.”
Confused, Anthony walked into the sparsely furnished spare bedroom and spotted her in the purple covered queen bed, her eyes hidden behind a sleep mask. She seemed barely able to speak.
“What’s going on, Shawna? Why are you in here? How did you even get in here? Come to our bedroom if you need to sleep. I’ll help you.” He pulled back the comforter, preparing to help her hobble across the hall.
“I’m in so much pain. I can’t stand to be up or moving around. I just didn’t want to bother you. And…I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
Okay, he thought. That kind of made sense, knowing her flamboyant ways. But his level of shock quickly increased, seeing her in a pair of men’s tailored pajamas. When he’d left earlier she’d been wearing a silky nightgown. The words, “Nice PJs, babe,” slipped out before he could stop himself. But he couldn’t understand how the pain could possibly have influenced her choice of sleepwear.
She finally agreed to move back to their bedroom. After tucking her in, he went to the kitchen to search for something for them to eat. With her inability to move about the house due to her physical suffering and her use of pain medication, he doubted she had eaten anything. A hint of guilt crept in when he admitted to himself that he shouldn’t have left her alone for so long. He’d make it up to her, cater to her every need tonight. Obviously, this wasn’t the time to confront her about his office situation. After her ankle repair surgery, she’d feel better. Then he could move forward and find answers to all of the lingering and gnawing questions. Then they could get back on the path of building a future together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
An email reminder from Laura went out to Lindsey, Anne, the school psychologist, and Louise, the part-time social worker, with a CC to the principal. It read:
Thanks everyone for getting your reports and evals completed (in record time) for the two boys. METs a go for both next Thursday. Willy’s mother at 2:00 and Bobby’s mother and grandmother at 3:30. It will be a long afternoon. I’ll bring treats. See you then.
The team gathered around an oval table in the psychologist’s office, leaving a space for Maggie Waters, Willy’s mother. When she walked through the doorway, Lindsey got up, escorted her to the table, and introduced her to the others. She did her best to make the young mother feel comfortable, though these meetings were rarely comforting to parents. No parent likes to hear that their child has problems above and beyond the everyday difficulties life can bring.
The psychologist began. “Thank you Mrs. Waters for—”
“That’s Miss Waters,” she said defensively.
“I’m sorry. Miss Waters. Thank you for coming today. We have gathered information through specific testing, observations, and several checklists, and today we will share the interpretation of all that data with you. Please feel free to ask questions at any time during this meeting. Laura, why don’t you begin with the academic achievement portion of the testing?”
Laura reiterated data from Willy’s progress reports and kindergarten testing results including the DIBELS data. He fell into the “At High Risk” or “Falling Far Below” categories in every area of school academic performance. The mother agreed with that information, saying she wasn’t surprised. Then she put the blame squarely on his teacher, Ms. Lindsey.
“He hates school,” Miss Waters said with a shrug. “He doesn’t even want to come. We begin every day arguing, because first he won’t get up, then he won’t eat, then he won’t go out the door. Everything is a struggle. If you would make school more interesting and fun—get him to like school—we wouldn’t have this problem.”
Lindsey tried not to take this attack personally, but she couldn’t help feeling defensive. She bit back her natural reaction. “I am sorry that you both go through such a difficult ritual every day. Of course we want Willy to like school. Most children love school, especially during the primary grades. I assure you, the students in my class have a joyful day every day. Tell me, Miss Waters—can I call you Maggie?” After receiving the hoped for nod of approval, Lindsey continued. “How does bedtime work at your house?”
Miss Waters rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s even worse. He won’t brush his teeth, he won’t wash his face, he won’t even lie in his bed. I have to wait till he falls asleep on the couch or on the floor, then I pick him up and put him in his bed.” She dropped her head into her hands. “It’s awful. Everything is awful,” she said with frustration.
Moving on, the school psychologist explained the Stanford-Binet Intelligence Scale had been used to acquire a clearer picture of Willy’s needs. “These assessments measure a child’s intellectual strengths and weaknesses, and they also give information about their abilities as compared to other children of the same age. Other areas like processing speeds and working memory are measured, too. We have some good news in this area, Miss Waters. Willy’s IQ score, though below the average range of scores, does fall into the Low Average range, with a score of 86,” stated the psychologist.
Moving on to Behavioral/Emotional Ratings, all team members contributed data from their observations and checklists before the psychologist helped Maggie understand what the various T-scores represented, then she summed up the findings. Every team member gave specific examples where aggression, rule breaking, anxiety, or social skill deficits had adverse affects on Willy’s educational performance. Maggie nodded throughout as her eyes welled up with tears.
Lindsey leaned over and gave her a tissue and a gentle hug. “We have a plan to help him. That’s the last part of today’s meeting. I think you will feel better after we put the plan into place,” she said kindly.
“Willy qualified for Exceptional Education Services due to his Specific Learning Disability in Reading (SLD) as well as his Emotional Disability (ED),” Laura explained. “The team recommends that he remain in his current general education classroom with Lindsey for the rest of this school year, receiving pull-out services with me every day for forty-five minutes.”
“Snack time,” Laura announced.
The next meeting was due to start in twelve minutes, and everyone needed to regain strength before Bobby’s meeting began. Lindsey brought bottled water for everyone, to add to Laura’s cookies. But snack time went on a lot longer than planned because Bobby’s mom and grandmother were now twenty minutes late. Lindsey called their house and received no answer. Maybe they were on their way. The team waited half hour before they agreed that the pair was going to be a “no show.”
“That’s odd,” said Laura. “I just spoke to the grandmother this morning, and she said they would be here. Was Bobby at school today, Linds?”
“Oh, he was here all right, whining and fussing and complaining about everything from the floor being too hard to the lights being too bright. I couldn’t get him to sit down or sit still all day. He had one of his worst days ever.”
***
After a lengthy discussion concerning their dining options, Lindsey and Martin decided on a casual, western restaurant located in Old Town where the wait staff dressed as cowboys and cowgirls, and the bar employees appeared as saloon gals. It was a far cry from romantic, but the mood was festive and family-friendly, and Lindsey had been craving something upbeat and happy.
Martin ordered the largest steak on the menu for himself and the petite version for Lindsey. She hadn’t had red meat in a long time, but now that she was here with Martin, she decided it was time for a change. The steak was delicious. At the first available respite from all the cutting, chewing, and drink sipping, she became aware of him reaching for her hand, but they were interrupted by a group of waiters singing a raucous version of Happy Birthday at the table directly behind them. Martin joined in, singing along and clapping at the end.