Kindergarten Baby: A Novel Read online

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The week before Winter Break was always a little hectic, with last minute assessments, semester progress reports and grades, class parties, kid-gifts for parents, and the Winter Performance. Completing the usual academic routines was a struggle, because the students were either excited about their upcoming vacations and holiday celebrations or depressed and frustrated at their lack of festivities.

  “What have you got planned for these last two weeks before Break?” Judy asked. “You always come up with some clever way to celebrate without breaking any of those annoying separation of church and state policies.”

  “Well,” Lindsey said with a sigh, “I’m not much in the mood for festivities right now. We’ll be doing a thematic unit on trees.”

  Judy frowned. “That does not sound like you.”

  She was right. That was not at all the Lindsey the staff was used to, and she knew some of her co-workers were concerned about her diminishing energy and enthusiasm. Today, as she gathered books, videos, pictures, games, art activities, and puzzles for the Tree Unit, she regained a little of the old‌—‌but not too old‌—‌and innovative Lindsey. The tree unit evolved into the Pine Tree Unit. And because she believed so strongly in hands-on, authentic learning, she felt compelled, even obligated to purchase a living pine tree for her classroom. From there, one thematic unit idea led to another. Since many pine trees grew in cold climates, that led to learning about the animals living in those pine trees‌—‌the ones that neither migrate nor hibernate‌—‌and to their persistent search for food so they could survive the winter. And what could those birds and rodents eat off their classroom tree? Why, strings of red cranberries and popcorn, of course!

  “One for the tree and one for me,” chanted Marvin as he worked on a popcorn string.

  Lindsey smiled. Sampling the goods was part of the procedure.

  “One popcorn, one cranberry, one popcorn, one cranberry,” said Emma, creating a mathematical pattern on her piece of string.

  Some of the students sang their version of the “Twelve Days” song as they loaded up their string, munching at the same time.

  “Beautiful!” Lindsey exclaimed, clapping. “Just remember, it’s eight bottles of water, not beer. There is no mention of beer in this song. Okay? And there are six what?”

  “Six spadefoot frogs!” the children announced.

  “That’s very close, but here in the desert we have spadefoot toads.”

  Lindsey kept a watchful eye on Willy, Bobby, and Joseph. The thought of giving them needles, even blunt embroidery needles, made her nervous. But so far, they were engaged and acting appropriately. They’d soon want to move on from this fine-motor activity anyway.

  The joy she saw on the children’s faces, the New Age instrumental, hint-of-Christmas music that tickled all their ears, and the fragrant aroma of fresh pine hovering throughout the classroom urged a little cheer in her. Real feelings. Not pretend or forced. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel good. And though a lonely, sorrowful feeling still gnawed deep within her, she felt a glimmer of hope that reached out beyond the day.

  That optimistic mood continued as Lindsey made her way home from work, still, however, avoiding Speedway Boulevard and the sick feeling that surged through her body whenever she was near The Office‌—‌even though that route would have made the trip a bit shorter.

  The Arizona sunset’s tangerine rays faded behind the low hills, and Lindsey detected a hint of crispness in the air. The desert winter was just around the corner.

  Struggling to get her key in the door, her arms full of grocery bags and book bags, Lindsey glanced down and noticed a folded piece of paper wedged between the door jam and the door. Her heart flipped at the thought that it could be from Anthony, then she thought better of that. Perhaps it’s from…‌Still hugging the bags to her, she knelt and picked up the note.

  My friend and I are waiting in the backyard for you, it read. It was not signed, but a large, dusty smudge at the bottom of the paper gave Lindsey a pretty good idea of who her visitors might be.

  “Wendell!” she shouted with delight. “I’m so glad to see you!” The big dog spread enthusiastic, slobbery kisses all over her flushed cheeks, and she laughed so hard she didn’t notice the other visitor at first.

  “Hey, Lindsey.” She glanced up, still smiling, and saw Jake standing there, wearing a sheepish, but charming smile. “I’m officially dog sitting tonight, so I didn’t even have to steal him. Hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

  “Mind? I’m thrilled. Really,” she said, still grinning.

  He nodded at her hands. “If you’ll stop clutching a few of those bags so tightly, I’ll help you carry them in.” He hesitated. “Uh, should I have called first? I just thought you’d be so glad to see Wendell again, and I came rushing right over.”

  “Oh no,” she assured him, handing over a few bags. “It’s all right. I’m really glad to see Wendell‌—‌and you, of course. You have the night off?”

  He nodded. “I worked the lunch shift today.”

  “Well then, why don’t you stay for dinner? Grilled orange roughy is on the menu for tonight.”

  “Wow! My mouth is watering already.”

  Lindsey made a quick detour to the bathroom to check her make-up after a long day in kindergarten and numerous dog kisses. When she came out, Jake was curiously perusing the bookshelves in the living room. She wondered what he thought, and her own eyes passed over some of her favorite titles: Memoirs of a Geisha, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Like Water for Chocolate, The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty…

  “Wow!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got Alistair MacLeod’s book? Did you like it?”

  “No Great Mischief? I’ll let you know. I haven’t even opened the cover yet.”

  Jake stayed by the bookshelf while Lindsey went out to start the coals‌—‌with Wendell’s help. He never left her side, and she almost tripped over him several times. It was as if the dog were trying to make up for lost time.

  “I miss you, too, Wendell,” she said, scratching behind his floppy ears. His big, brown, loving, dog eyes held hers, and her heart pulsed with joy. She needed the closeness, too. Was it possible that she missed Wendell more than she missed Anthony? She grinned and felt a bit of her own mischief rising to the surface. Of course a man and a dog fill different areas of the heart, but dogs sure were easier to love. And apparently a dog’s level of loyalty far exceeded that of certain men.

  “One delicious doggy dinner, coming up!” she said, filling a mixing bowl with his food.

  Lindsey outdid herself in the dinner preparation and felt good while she was doing it.

  “That smells really good,” Jake said, wandering outside.

  She smiled. “Thanks. I’m trying something new. Hope you don’t mind being part of my experiment.”

  They talked, exchanging ordinary questions and answers about Jake’s job and school, though deep down she wanted to know more about his relationship with Anthony and Shawna. She told herself she’d work that in later. In the meantime, she was glad to have Jake’s company, to be sharing dinner with someone, and to spend time with Wendell.

  “It must be difficult, supporting yourself and your home all on your own,” he said at one point. “I’ve heard all the stuff about teacher salaries.”

  She shrugged. “It’s hard, but I get by.” She grinned. “I can still afford Chinese food once in a while. Would you like some wine with dinner?”

  “I would love some wine,” Jake said with an infectious smile.

  For a moment she was caught in the twinkle of his blazing blue eyes, then she shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and went inside to select a bottle. On her way she started wondering…‌was he even old enough to drink? What if she was supplying alcohol to a minor? That would be a crime. She could just imagine the headlines: Kindergarten Teacher Arrested for Giving a Student Alcohol.

  Other than the underage alcohol issue, she found she really didn�
�t care how old he was. She had started to really enjoy his company. He might just be a college student, a fast food delivery driver, and a dog sitter, but most of all he was a really nice guy with shiny, dark blond hair that always looked just a bit windblown. His compelling blue eyes seemed to probe into her soul. There was something about him, some mysterious, attractive aura she couldn’t define.

  Oh dear, she thought.

  She didn’t realize she’d mentally drifted off until Jake called from the patio. “Lindsey? Are you all right?”

  “Just fine,” she said, coming back outside to the grill. “Jake, I have to be honest with you.” That was true, she reasoned. It’s just that she was only going to be partially honest‌—‌at least for now. “And right this minute, I have two things on my mind. First of all, it just occurred to me that I barely know you, or anything about you, and here you are in my house, with my dog, about to drink wine with me and—”

  “I think I get it,” he interrupted. “I assure you I’m harmless.”

  She blushed. “Oh, I didn’t mean that I was afraid in any way. Not really. It’s just that…‌well, I’m a teacher and you’re a student. You called me ‘ma’am’ on several occasions, and here we are, about to drink wine together.”

  Jake’s eyes brightened, and he laughed out loud. “I assure you, Miss Lindsey, you are not corrupting a minor. I’m old enough to drink wine without anyone going to jail. No front page scandal here.”

  Lindsey laughed, too, relieved, though somewhat embarrassed. One question answered, dozens more to go.

  While she carried the grilled delights into the kitchen, Jake poured the wine, and they dined on orange roughy topped with a green cilantro salsa, alongside a grilled mix of zucchini, small purple-skinned potatoes, corn, bell peppers, and onions. For a while they were both so involved in devouring the meal that they didn’t speak. Before long, the conversation picked up again.

  “How long will my dog be with you?” she asked.

  He frowned. “Good question. I’m not sure. The lady said just tonight, but I never really count on what she says, so maybe more.”

  Lindsey set her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “He is my dog, you know.”

  After a sip of wine, he chuckled warmly. “I don’t know what’s going on here with regard to Wendell, but he sure knows you well. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  She surprised herself. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do.”

  They sat on the sofa and talked until dawn. Lindsey opened up, describing how it had felt to come home sick and find her husband in bed with another woman. She managed not to cry when she described how he’d left that same day and planned never to return.

  “But he did return‌—‌to take Wendell.”

  And that left me with absolutely nothing to truly care about.

  ***

  The morning sun blushed through a layer of thin clouds, but Jake hardly noticed it. Most days he would have lingered until this spectacular, pastel vision had faded, but he’d been out all night. He had no time for that. He returned to his small apartment, quickly gulped his first mug of coffee, and opened his laptop.

  It took a moment before he could type anything. He was feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information he’d been given over the last ten hours. Information he hadn’t even asked for. He’d interviewed many women before, read stacks of similar research, thought he’d heard it all. Actually, he had heard it all, but this woman was different. She was still in shock, still numb, and he could feel her pain, her anger, her loneliness. He had to write about her; he wanted to write about her.

  Objectivity would be a challenge. Nevertheless, he began to type: Subject D is an attractive, twenty-six year old kindergarten teacher; separated for approximately three months; reason for being alone‌—‌husband left her for another woman. Classic, textbook scenario… He typed what he knew of her, and soon the words came faster than his fingers could tap.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I hate dress rehearsals. They’re so darned nerve wracking. They always go badly. And there’s no way to get the kids‌—‌every kid in the whole school, all at once‌—‌to sit quietly in the cafeteria until it’s their turn. They’re too excited. Why do we do this?” demanded Lindsey, addressing no one in particular, though Judy was close enough to hear her.

  “Rhetorical question?” asked Judy peering over her reading glasses. “Or would you like an answer?”

  “Definitely rhetorical. No, it’s actually a stupid question. We do this because this is what we do.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s what everybody does, and the final performance will be just fine. I know that. It’s just all this commotion and confusion is so unsettling.” She wrung her hands. “And I don’t have my kids’ report cards done yet. I’ve barely just begun.”

  “Oh, well, that would make any teacher a bit anxious. You are doing the district computer version, right?”

  “You know, I thought about it, but it seemed easier to do them by hand, so I could do most of the work at home. The time just got away from me and—”

  “Do you have all your on-going assessment notes?”

  “Sure. I’m very organized when it comes to assessment.”

  “Do you want to get it done today?”

  Lindsey raised her face to the ceiling and laughed. “Oh, right! Like that’s possible.”

  Judy winked. “Be in my room at 3:15 with your assessment notes, student journals, a blank disc, and chocolate. Lots of chocolate. You will be done today.”

  “Thanks, Judy!” It seemed too good to be true. “You’re a life saver…‌or should I say a Hershey’s Kiss?”

  As the rest of the classes clamored in for the rehearsal, the noise level rose considerably. One of the fifth grade classes sat up front, which was a definite no-no. Kinder classes always sat in front, then first grade, then second grade, and so on. Everyone knew this. But for some reason, one class was way out of order today, and it was seated in Lindsey’s spot. To make matters worse, Lindsey had forgotten to have her students bring their own chairs. Kinder classes always brought their own little chairs.

  “Excuse me,” Lindsey said, attempting to get some of the fifth graders’ attention. “Why are you sitting up front today?”

  At first the children completely ignored her. After all, she was just a kindergarten teacher. What could she know? How to color? Take naps? Finger paint? Play with sand and water? What power could she have?

  “Where is your teacher?” she tried again.

  Still no response. Either they were deaf or she was invisible.

  She set one hand on her hip. “Who here likes Katy Perry?”

  Hands shot up as all the girls and a few of the boys suddenly noticed her. Amazing.

  “I like her, too,” she said. “And I like to sit up close during a concert or any performance just like you are doing right now.”

  “We hate having to sit in the back all the time. We can’t see,” a small fifth grader whined.

  “I know just how you feel,” Lindsey replied, and since she was only 5’3” she knew what she was talking about. “But look how little these students are compared to you.”

  The kinder kids were masters of pouting and donning sad dog-eyes. Now the entire class used their powers at full blast, looking pitiful and forlorn as they blinked at the fifth graders.

  “Okay! Geez! Make them stop!”

  “We can’t take the pressure,” another agreed.

  One boy started to walk back, and he signaled for his friends to follow. “Come on, guys. Let’s go get their stupid little chairs for them.”

  When everyone was ready, Lindsey played a simple chord on her electric keyboard and Judy conducted while the little angels sang. Behind the scenes, Emma tried to organize the other children. Joseph jumped toward the front of the stage and started some sort of gyrating, tap dancing, break dancing routine that had absolutely nothing to do with the performance. Bobby sulked in the dark, far corner of the s
tage behind the backdrop, and Willy…‌well, Willy, for reasons unknown, took off his belt and whirled it above his head as fast as he could, his eyes crazed and intense. The students around him ducked out of the way to avoid getting hit. It actually got a little dangerous.

  From experience, Lindsey knew that asking Willy to stop would not work. Demanding that he stop would merely begin a power struggle that couldn’t be won by anyone of authority. Physically forcing him to stop could have dire consequences. When this child became enraged, his strength seemed to quadruple. But she had other strategies to try.

  Lindsey halted her piano playing, leaving a sudden vacuum in the room. She stood and placed a finger over her lips, giving the “quiet” sign to everyone, then moved her palms toward the floor several times, signaling for the rest of the choir to sit down. A curious hush settled over the once squirming, wiggling audience.

  The entire school, including over three hundred pairs of eyes, focused on the tiny, impulsive kindergarten boy. The silence finally grabbed Willy’s attention, and Lindsey saw the moment when he made the connection between the whirling object over his head and his own arm attached to it. The belt fell to the stage floor, and Laura quickly retrieved it.

  Willy scowled at the rows of wide-eyed students and shouted, “What are you lookin’ at?”

  “Take it from the top,” instructed Lindsey. “One, two, ready, sing.” The singers got back to their song, the audience resumed its wiggling, and Willy stood perfectly still.

  ***

  The temperature had dropped far below normal for Tucson, though it still wasn’t winter weather, according to outsiders. Nevertheless, old pueblo residents got out their winter clothing, taking advantage of the rare cold spell.

  Shawna came slinking down the hallway in a fur coat. “Finally, I can wear this,” she said. “Come on. Let’s take the doggy for a walk.”

  Anthony, still easily aroused by her flamboyant, sexual ways, grinned. “Should I ask what you’re wearing under that fur coat?”