A Companion for His Son
Autor:in
Lee Tobin McClain
Gelesen
19,2K
Kapitel
18
Chapter One
Olivia Bell set down her last heavy box and looked around her new classroom, her heart pounding with hope and excitement. She was just a substitute, but a long-term one if all went well.
Although it was mid-August, the previous kindergarten teacher’s faded decorations remained. On the bulletin board, pieces of shiny fringe hung askew. A map of Pennsylvania had a rip right through the Laurel Highlands, probably due to lots of grubby fingers pointing out their tiny hometown.
At least the room itself was clean. Chairs were up on tables, and the floor shone with new wax.
Olivia had two weeks to get ready for the new school year, and she was up for it. This substitute position would, God willing, turn into a permanent job.
She envisioned years of young faces looking up at her, smiling, happy, learning. She envisioned helping her mother and sister with their rent payment.
She looked out the window toward the parking lot. A few SUVs loomed over her battered subcompact.
If this teaching job became permanent, she’d be able to replace it.
There was a late-model Lexus in the lot, too. As Olivia started unpacking boxes, she wondered idly what teacher could afford a Lexus.
From down the hall, she heard raised voices, a child crying. The kindergarten classroom was closest to the school office and picked up noise from there.
The location meant she’d be under the watchful eye of the principal, Mr. Lindquest.
Oh, well. No job was perfect.
The voices and the crying child got louder. It sounded like there was a problem, and for better or worse, Olivia couldn’t stand by while a child was having a problem. She pushed aside her boxes and headed out the classroom door.
In front of the office, a little boy lay on the floor with... Was that a large dog on his legs? Olivia walked closer.
Mr. Lindquest stood, arms crossed, eyeing both child and dog with distaste.
Kneeling beside the boy was a man in an expensive-looking dress shirt and tie. A slight gray around the temples suggested he was older than most parents of young children. Forty, maybe? No dad bod, though. This man had broad shoulders and a slim waist.
The man patted the child’s shoulder and spoke to him in a low voice, completely ignoring the large, apricot-colored doodle that still lay across the little boy’s legs.
The child’s cries were quieting. Olivia stopped a short distance away.
“You were required to register your son for kindergarten in the spring,” Mr. Lindquest said, clearly continuing an ongoing argument.
The hot dad looked up. “As I mentioned,” he said, his voice containing the hint of a growl, “my assistant contacted you months ago and there was no indication of that requirement.”
“We’ve never had a service dog in the lower grades,” Mr. Lindquest said.
The man pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the little boy’s teary face, then stood. “You’re legally required to accommodate my son’s disability.”
“True. But we’re not required to care for the tools that assist a disabled student, and that dog—” Mr. Lindquest frowned as he looked at the panting, drooling doodle “—that dog will clearly require care. More care than any young child could provide, let alone...” He trailed off, looking at the little boy, lips twisted to one side.
The dad’s eyes narrowed.
The little boy banged the floor with a fist, repeatedly and hard enough that Olivia worried he might hurt himself.
The big dog flopped to his side, putting still more weight on the child.
Ahhh. Olivia had heard of service dogs providing deep-pressure therapy, but she’d never seen it in action before.
Mr. Lindquest glared.
Olivia waded into the standoff. “Hi, I’m Olivia Bell, the kindergarten teacher. Is there any way I can help?”
“What do you know about autism?” the dad demanded.
She lifted her chin and stuck out a hand. “Olivia Bell.” Not only did she want this man to acknowledge her as a person before interrogating her, but she also wanted to redirect both men away from talking about the boy on the floor right in front of him. “I’m happy to speak with you when things settle down.”
Her effort at conciliation didn’t work.
“Nick Constantine,” he said, his voice impatient. “I was informed that the kindergarten teacher here was an autism specialist.”
“I’m afraid that teacher had a family emergency and moved away.” Mr. Lindquest sounded almost triumphant. “Perhaps another school...”
It took effort for Olivia not to roll her eyes. There was no other elementary school in their rural, mountainous district—at least not close enough to be an easy alternative.
“This is the only school in town,” Nick Constantine snapped.
The child continued to cry and hit the floor, no doubt feeling the tension of the adults. The dog shifted and bumped its big head against the child’s hand until it went still.
“We’re a facilitated team.” Nick spun a finger in a circle that included himself, the little boy and the dog. “But I’ll need an aide to help with Freddie’s dog while he’s in school.”
“It’s far too late to find an aide,” Mr. Lindquest said. For the first time, a note of sympathy came into his voice. “I’m afraid it’s going to be impossible to have the dog come to school with Freddie.”
“Not coming without Scooby.” The boy turned onto his side and buried his face in the dog’s fur.
So he was verbal. That would make things easier. Olivia’s mind raced with ideas of how to adjust her classroom to suit this new student’s needs.
Mr. Lindquest cleared his throat. “Bottom line, I can’t have a dog in my school without an adult who can handle it. It’s just not safe.”
Nick planted his legs wider. A vein pulsed in his temple.
Freddie was peeking up at his father, his forehead wrinkled.
Olivia saw an opportunity to make a difference. “If I can find an aide, would we be able to work this out?”
Mr. Lindquest frowned. “Anyone you found would have to be hired through the intermediate unit. And they’d need all their clearances. That takes time. Which is why we prefer that students are registered well ahead of time, not two weeks before the start of school.”
Nick scrubbed a hand over his chin. “I thought we’d be able to bring his aide from New York, where we were living until last week. That fell through, so I need for you to work with me here.”
“I’m accustomed to dogs,” Olivia said quickly. “We had therapy dogs in my preschool classroom all the time. I can fill in until the aide is hired.”
“You’ll have a class full of students to attend to,” Mr. Lindquest said.
“I’m used to that,” she said, which was true, although her previous experience was with preschool rather than kindergarten students. “I’m sure you’re busy,” she said to Mr. Lindquest in her most soothing voice. “I can handle this for you. It’s not a problem.”
Mr. Lindquest glanced back toward the office, which undoubtedly held stacks of paperwork and a long queue of emails and phone messages. The weeks before school started were a busy time.
“Would it be all right if we took Freddie and Scooby down to see the classroom?” she asked Mr. Lindquest, then turned to include Nick in the conversation. “We can talk about the situation and see if it’s manageable.”
Freddie sat up, arm around his dog, eyes hopeful.
Nick looked down at him, and something softened in his face. “All right, we can take a look and have a talk,” he said.
“Fine, but I doubt we can come to an agreement,” Mr. Lindquest said over his shoulder as he headed toward his office.
“If we don’t,” Nick said to the man’s back, “you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
Mr. Lindquest closed his office door with a decisive click.
“Come on down this way,” Olivia said. She led father, son and dog toward her classroom.
Her messy and disorganized classroom. Way to impress a parent. What had she been thinking?
If she hadn’t butted in and offered to help, Nick and his adorable son would still be at odds with Mr. Lindquest. Possibly, he’d already be on the phone with his lawyer, talking about a lawsuit.
That wouldn’t be good, but it also wouldn’t be her problem. She was just the substitute kindergarten teacher.
But of course, she’d dived in like she always did, and now she had to deal with the consequences.
Nick held Freddie’s hand as they followed the pretty young teacher down the hall.
He was frustrated beyond belief. Joyce, his aunt and Freddie’s caregiver, had communicated Freddie’s needs to the school district early in the spring. What had gone wrong? And how would it affect Freddie, who needed things to be calm and consistent in his life?
They followed the teacher, apparently a long-term substitute, into a shabby, cluttered classroom. Nick’s doubts increased. Disorder wasn’t good for Freddie’s state of mind.
Maybe moving here had been a mistake.
But to uproot Freddie again, just a couple of weeks before the new school year started... No. For now, he had to try to make this work. To do that, he needed to get this new, impossibly young teacher on board.
The teacher, Olivia, knelt in front of Freddie, keeping several feet of distance between them. “Hi, Freddie,” she said, “I’m Ms. Bell.”
Freddie looked to the side—eye contact wasn’t his strong point—but his eyes lit up. “I like bells.”
Olivia smiled at him. “We’re going to use bells at music time,” she said. “Want to see?”
He still didn’t look at Olivia, but he nodded.
“We just have to find them in one of these boxes,” she said. “It’s like a treasure hunt.”
Freddie buried his face in Scooby’s fur.
“Maybe not today—” Nick said, and broke off.
Olivia was already nodding and walking over to a stack of boxes. Apparently, she’d registered that Freddie wasn’t in the mood for a treasure hunt. She opened a box and briefly looked through it, then shook her head and opened another.
Nick stayed beside his son, hoping they could avoid another meltdown. He put a hand on Scooby’s soft, curly coat. Sometimes he thought the autism support dog was as much of a help to him as he was to Freddie.
He was about to tell her not to bother when she cried, “Bingo!”
“Bingo is a game,” Freddie said.
“It sure is,” Nick said. He wanted to get the teacher’s attention and point to Freddie and say, See? He’s smart!
But Ms. Bell looked over and smiled and nodded. “You’re right.”
“Bingo is a game,” Nick said. “But it’s also a word people use when they’re happy. I think Ms. Bell just found her bells.”
Freddie tilted his head to one side and smiled.
“I did,” she said. “Freddie, come on over.”
Freddie walked over with his distinctive gait, on his toes, holding Scooby’s leash. Nick followed. Today wasn’t the day to suggest that Freddie work on keeping his heels down.
“You may play with anything in this box,” Olivia said.
Freddie let go of Scooby and started digging through the box. He might not admit, or even know, that he liked a treasure hunt, but when the prize was bells and drums, he definitely did. Music and rhythm were some of his favorite things, right up there with animals and nature.
They both watched Freddie for a moment, and then Olivia gestured Nick to a nearby table. “Let’s have a seat and talk a little,” she said, moving chairs from the tabletop and righting them. Nick helped and then sat down on a small chair, feeling like a giant.
Freddie was digging through the packing paper. He looked happier than he had all morning. Scooby flopped down beside Freddie, resting his big head on his paws.
Nick scraped a hand over his face. Dealing with Freddie’s meltdowns in a public place—a new public place that was potentially crucial to Freddie’s happiness—had worn him out. Especially after a late night of trying to catch up on paperwork from his remote clients.
He probably shouldn’t have brought Freddie along today, but he’d had to give Joyce, his aunt, a break. She’d been working overtime, helping with the move and dealing with a lot of moving-related outbursts from Freddie.
He’d hoped, this morning, to look around the school, possibly meet Freddie’s teacher and help Freddie get excited about the start of class. Now, though, he was full of doubts.
Olivia had gone over to the teacher’s desk, buried under mounds of supplies. She returned with a legal pad and pen. “Just want to make some notes,” she said, sitting down.
She seemed positive and energetic. Professional. He’d seen a couple of other teachers wearing ripped and faded jeans as they carried in supplies. Ms. Bell, though, wore conservative black slacks and a shirt with fluttery sleeves. She could have fit in at his office back in New York.
Would have been a hit with his male employees there, in fact. She moved like an athlete, her brown hair swinging above her shoulders, her dark eyes big and full of fun.
Not that her looks mattered to him. If he’d been seeking a relationship, he’d have chosen someone closer to his own age. Late thirties at least, not midtwenties.
But he wasn’t seeking a relationship. Wasn’t putting Freddie through the heartbreak of a mother, or mother figure, leaving, not ever again.
“You didn’t answer my earlier question,” he said, making sure his voice didn’t convey that he’d been noticing how she looked. “What do you know about autism?”
His businesslike tone didn’t seem to faze her. “I studied it in several classes in college,” she said.
“But you’re not a specialist.”
“No,” she said.
“And you’re not experienced at teaching. Mr. Lindquest said you were new.”
“I’m new to this school,” she said. “I’ve been in early childhood education for four years postcollege. I worked with young children part-time for a number of years before that.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to control his anger at the whole situation. It wasn’t this young woman’s fault that things weren’t the way they were supposed to be. He and Joyce had researched this district and area and decided it was right for Freddie.
How had they made such a serious error?
“Where did you live before?” Olivia’s voice sounded almost...gentle.
“New York. City.”
“Where there were a lot of resources for kids with disabilities,” she said. She didn’t ask the obvious question: Then why did you move away?
He answered it anyway. “That’s right, there were all kinds of resources, multiple schools to choose from,” he said. “But Freddie bolted away from me a few times. That’s something kids with autism tend to do, and it was just too dangerous in a big, crowded city. Plus, there was also a lot of chaos and noise, which didn’t suit Freddie. He likes quiet.”
Freddie chose that moment to bang on a drum he’d found, making them all jump, even Scooby.
“I see he does.” Olivia’s mouth turned up at the corners.
Nick chuckled. “Except when he’s the one making the noise. He also loves animals and the outdoors.”
“Good to know.” She made a note. “What’s your connection to Holiday Point?”
Nick looked out the window at tree-lined streets and a blue, blue sky. “My grandparents lived here. So did my aunt, Freddie’s caregiver, a long time ago.” Nick’s happy childhood memories of visiting Holiday Point had been a factor in his decision to move.
Olivia nodded. “Roots can be important. And Holiday Point is a peaceful, welcoming place.”
They both watched Freddie bang the drum.
“Seems he has an interest in music, too,” she said, making a note. “Scooby doesn’t, though.” The big dog had shifted a couple of feet away from Freddie and his drumming. “Aw, Scooby seems sweet. So does Freddie.”
Nick almost liked her.
“Look,” she said, “I’m not certified in special education, though I plan to be in the future. But I’ll review what I know and study up. And I think I can find an aide quickly. I already have a couple of people in mind. I know some staff members at the intermediate unit, too, who might be able to push through a hire.”
Nick mentally scanned the alternatives and made a decision. “We’ll give it a try,” he said. “But I will be here in the classroom with him until an appropriate aide can be found.”
She shook her head. “Not a good idea. Most kindergartners have trouble separating from their parents, and I’m sure Freddie is no exception. It’s best to set clear boundaries up front. Plus, if I let one parent stay in the classroom, others will want to stay, too.”
She was taking charge, and he didn’t like it. “You obviously have no idea of what an autistic child needs.”
Outside the classroom, a custodian pushed a cart down the hall, its wheels rattling. Freddie hummed quietly as he sorted through the box of musical instruments.
The young teacher held Nick’s eyes with a steady gaze. “I do know that children with autism often need to work on social skills. To do that, they need contact with people who display good social skills on a regular basis.” She let the words sink in, lifting her eyebrow a little.
He looked at her, his brow wrinkling. “Did you just imply that I don’t have good social skills?”
She smiled sweetly. “I’ll look forward to seeing Freddie in class.”
“No,” he said. “I want to track your progress with finding an aide. I’d also like to help Freddie to get accustomed to the building and classroom before school starts. I’ll need you to meet with us several times in the next two weeks.”
She didn’t answer, just gave him that steady, brown-eyed gaze again.
Disconcerted, he reviewed what he’d said. Had he been rude? Did he, in fact, lack good social skills? “Of course, I’ll compensate you well for your time.” He named an hourly rate he would have paid a professional tutor in New York.
Again, that eyebrow lifted. “I’ll have to double-check my contract to make sure I’m allowed to do that. If there’s no clause against working individually with students outside of class... I would be glad to meet with you at that rate.”
“Tomorrow?” he asked. “At my home?”
For the first time in the entire encounter, she looked hesitant. “I’d rather meet in public.”
He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be alone with a strange man. “My aunt will be there. She takes care of Freddie when I’m working, and she’ll have some good insights.”
“That’s fine, then.” She tore off a sheet of paper and pushed it toward him along with a fat pencil. “Give me your address and phone number. I can be there at ten a.m.”
He wrote down his contact information on the wide-lined paper, feeling like a little kid.
How had this small-town substitute kindergarten teacher turned the tables on him, telling him when and where to meet, setting her own terms?
And why had the thought of seeing her again given him such a jolt of energy, along with a fear that he just might be making a big mistake?
