Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
She snorted. “If you think your tongue isn’t just as sharp, then it’s only because you haven’t been on the receiving end of it.” She set down the note as I put on the necklace. “Did losing Will change you? Absolutely. But at your core, you’re the same person you always have been, with the same big, beautiful heart. The fact that he sees that heart earns him my approval, but my opinion doesn’t really matter here. Yours does.”
I stared down at the pendant that rested just above my breasts. “I really like him.”
“I know.”
“I’m really scared.” My eyes found hers.
“I know that, too. Anything new is scary, and that’s without you already knowing the cost of risking your heart.”
“I’m not sure I have a heart to risk.” But that little flare of hope in my chest argued otherwise.
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so scared.” She gave me an encouraging smile. “Now, are you ready for morning homework?”
The recording. The usual dread settled on my shoulders, but it was lighter today, easier to bear. Every day, this got a little easier. The improvement had been so small that I hadn’t seen it to start with, but now that we were seven weeks into the treatment—almost halfway—the progress was obvious.
Hope, there it was again.
“It’s not really morning homework since it’s after noon,” I quipped.
“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Sam shot back, already going for the tape recorder, but there was a grin on her face. “For real, are you ready?”
I really was.
“Let’s do it.”
…
I paired my new necklace with simple gold studs, put on my favorite cream dress, and walked into the school district office on Monday at ten forty-five, exactly fifteen minutes early for my intake meeting with the superintendent.
In less than four months, I would be a fifth-grade teacher.
The house renovations would be complete, and then… What then? I was supposed to deliver a list of long-term goals to Dr. Circe tomorrow, and I was drawing a big, fat blank. Did maintaining my sanity count as a goal?
Or maybe trying to ease into a relationship—I mentally stumbled over the word—with Jackson?
Jackson. A texted thank you wasn’t enough, though he’d sworn it was. I wanted to see him, but he’d gone to nights this week, which meant whenever I was awake, he was asleep.
Complicated, indeed, but there was something to be said for anticipation.
I signed in at the front desk, but I was too antsy to sit, so I passed the giant stand that announced Mother’s Day tea was today in honor of yesterday’s holiday and perused the artwork on the bulletin board in the hallway. The district offices shared this building with the preschool, so I searched the pretty, painted rainbows until I found Finley’s.
I snapped a picture with my cell phone. I’d send it to Jackson once he was awake for the night.
The door to my right opened, and an older woman with blond hair ushered a little one into the hallway.
“Why don’t we try giving her a call one more time?” the teacher suggested.
A very familiar pair of Vans kicked at the linoleum floor, but I couldn’t see the child’s face.
“Why bother?” I knew that voice, though.
“Finley?” I walked around the teacher to confirm my guess.
Her head lifted, and I was unprepared for the flare of disappointment in those brown eyes. Ouch. It only lasted a second before she tried to force a shaky smile. “Hi, Morgan. Did Daddy send you?”
The teacher eyed me warily, and I checked her name tag. Mrs. Kozier.
“Hi, Mrs. Kozier, I’m Morgan Bartley. I’m Finley’s next-door neighbor and the new fifth-grade teacher over at the elementary school,” I said so she wouldn’t call the guards on me. Then I sank down on my heels so I was eye level with Finley. “No, honey. I’m here for a meeting. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mother’s Day tea,” she said softly, her eyes falling away.
Guess that explained the sparkly dress.
“Well, that sounds fun.” I took her little hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Everyone else has their mom,” she whispered, staring at the floor.
My gaze flew up to meet Mrs. Kozier’s, and she shook her head. Claire hadn’t come? I swallowed the ball of rage that was working its way up my throat.
“And you gave her a call?” I asked quietly.
Finley nodded, then sniffed as two fat teardrops fell from her cheeks to the checkered floor.
“Well, how late is she? Maybe she’s just running a little behind, honey.” God, please let that be the case. Do not let Claire break Finley’s little heart.
Finley brought her face up, and I wiped away two more tears. “She’s really late. There’s only two kids left to read their poems.”
My heart ached, but I managed a smile. “Let’s do what your teacher suggested and call her again.”
She lunged at me, and I caught her, keeping careful balance on my heels. “She’s not coming. She never does.”