One by one, the children stated their names and a fact or two about themselves. She put a star by those who stumbled over their words or refused to make eye contact, so that she could make sure she spent extra time making them comfortable with her before they got too far into the term.
By the time she reached the last student, she had a pretty good handle on the personalities that comprised her class that winter.
“And what’s your name?” Amy prompted when the last little girl didn’t speak.
The girl shrugged and kept her eyes glued firmly to the desk. Amy noticed that her clothes were wrinkled and her hair seemed to be only half brushed. She hoped that only meant the girl had woken up late that morning—not that she was facing bigger problems at home.
When the student still didn’t speak, Amy crossed the room and went to stand beside her desk. “It’s okay if you’re feeling shy. Maybe you can whisper your name in my ear.”
The girl shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.
“We don’t know her,” a pretty girl named Bailey explained. “She’s new.”
“Oh, so you’re new like me?” Amy said with a bright smile. “I’m Ms. Shannon,” she said again. “What’s your name?”
The girl heaved a dramatic sigh, but still refused to speak or even make eye contact with Amy.
“Hmm, let me check my chart.” Amy lifted the attendance sheet and narrowed in on the unmarked names. “I only have two students unaccounted for today, and I’m guessing you’re not Marcus. So that must mean you’re Olivia.”
She looked at the girl, who nodded slowly while twisting her fingers into the hem of her already wrinkled shirt.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Olivia. I hope we’ll be very good friends this year,” Amy said before returning to the front of the classroom so she could guide the class in the first lesson of the new semester.
They had only just begun, and already she had something new to worry about. She hadn’t been able to help her mother, not in the end. But maybe she could find a way to get through to Olivia.
Life wasn’t over, but it wouldn’t be the same as before, either.
And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
Chapter 6
By the end of the day, Amy was more than ready to go home. Her shoulders sagged with the exhaustion that came from returning to a structured routine. This had been exactly what she’d needed, forcing herself to get out there again.
At home, it had become too easy to focus on where her mother should have been, what they were supposed to be doing at any given time. But her mother had never been a part of Amy’s work life, which meant the memories couldn’t follow Amy there. It meant Amy was safe as long as she was tucked inside the old brick building.
If only she’d found a way to return sooner....
But wishing for that meant regretting that her mother hadn’t died sooner. If the disease had taken her sooner, it would have spared them both the added suffering that came with added time. Still, who would ever wish a loved one gone sooner?
Not Amy. In fact, she’d give up almost anything to have her mother here with her for just one more day. She’d love the chance to tell her about the new students, to discuss how her day had been.
At the same time, she wasn’t ready to confide these minor details in her friends. Not yet. They’d been such a staple of her mourning. Amy needed some time to find herself outside of their shared grief, and for today, that meant keeping to herself.
She stayed in her classroom for about an hour after the children left, searching for any excuse not to head home. By the time she’d finished alphabetizing the books in the little reading corner, however, it became clear that she needed to stop avoiding the inevitable.
Home wasn’t so bad. She could catch up on her leisure reading. She didn’t have to be melancholic schoolteacher Amy Shannon. She could be the brave and beautiful heroine who attracted suitors left and right, all while saving her kingdom from ruin.
Yes, she liked that idea very much.
First, she’d conquer the fictional kingdom; then maybe she’d have the wherewithal to take another stab at figuring out what came next in her living autobiography.
That seemed the perfect way to celebrate a job well done.
On her drive back home, she swung through the nearest drive-through and ordered the greasiest combo on the menu. Normally, she tried to eat relatively clean and healthy—at least for the main course so she could justify indulging her sweet tooth on a near-nightly basis. Today, though, she craved the comfort that came with a large side of fries and a double-decker burger oozing mayo.
The intoxicating aroma of a heart attack just waiting to happen filled her car, and Amy squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment in order to appreciate it more fully. When she opened them again, a dark blur shot out in front of her car and she had to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into it. Her head jerked forward, sending a sharp, shooting pain up the back of her neck.
Luckily, the airbags didn’t deploy.
Unluckily, another car slammed into her from behind.
Now, her airbags shot open with a loud pop and a startling burst of powder.
Amy spied the source of the accident watching her from the other side of the street. A dog of all things.
His mostly black fur appeared matted, and his muzzle hoary with age. Even from this distance, she could see the animal was far too thin. His chances of surviving the remaining winter months probably weren’t the best—especially if he continued to make a habit of running out in front of cars on this busy street.
Their eyes met for a moment; then the dog turned and squeezed his skeletal body beneath a wire fence, disappearing entirely from Amy’s view.
A pounding on her window drew her attention back to her current predicament. A frantic man motioned for her to roll down the glass so they could talk.
“Are you okay?” he asked as his eyes scanned her body for any obvious injuries.
Amy shivered. She felt so exposed, so naked beneath his probing gaze. And also shaken by the accident.
At least she hadn’t hit the dog. That would have been a hundred times worse. Insurance would cover the damage to her car, but nothing would have been able to fix the guilt at having taken a life. Yes, it was one thing to witness a death, but quite another to be the one to cause it.
“Are you okay?” he repeated.
She tried to focus on the scene unfolding around her, but all she saw was the man’s face. Dark stubble lined his jaw, rising up to meet his shaggy dark hair. Both framed his anxious blue eyes as they seared into her, waiting for a response that would prove she’d come out of this okay. Perhaps he was hoping to nab a get out of guilt free card as well.
A flashing light drew her eyes past the man, and she watched as a police cruiser parked diagonally across the lane to staunch the flow of traffic. Other drivers navigated around them while stretching their necks to study Amy with pitying expressions. Some people even pulled into the strip mall parking lots that lined the street and ran over on foot to see if they could offer help somehow.
Amy’s throat felt impossibly dry despite the fact she’d been salivating over her fast-food contraband mere minutes before. Her engine had shut itself down as a cautionary measure following the collision, which prevented her from rolling down the window to speak to the man. Since she didn’t have it in her to yell over the increasing din outside, she wedged her door open and carefully extricated herself from the tangle of her seat belt combined with the massive airbag.