But then his eyebrow rose in that cocky way he had and I realized he had been joking. I was the one that read too much into it. “Isn’t that how it usually goes? I was just kidding.”
I cleared my throat and attempted a smile.“Merry Christmas, Ben.”
“Merry Christmas, Liz.”
I stepped into my boots, grabbed my coat and practically bolted from his house. By the time I had shut myself back in my own house I had managed to convince myself that his kiss and his flirting didn’t mean anything. He was a friend. And he thought of me as a friend.
I looked down at the box in my hand,thenclutched it against my pounding heart.
He was just a friend, I decided concretely.
And because I willfully came to that conclusion, I didn’t bother to examine my actions when I tucked the ornament inside my bedside table instead of hanging it on the tree where it would be stored away with all of the other Christmas decorations in just a few short days.
Chapter Seventeen
“Ms. Conway will see you now,” the school secretary informed me.
I stood up from a chair lined against the wall and walked toward Ms. Conway’s office. This time I thought ahead and called Emma to babysit the two little kids while I had my meeting with the school counselor.
When she called last Friday to ask me to come in on Monday, she’d made it clear that this was a very serious meeting and that I should be serious about it.
I figured the call was meant to scare me into leaving my gaggle of children at home.
I walked into her office and steeled myself against the immediate chill. I hated being called in here. I hated that she had the ability to reduce me to fear and panic attacks.
Before Grady died, I had been the poster mom for volunteering and school spirit. Now I was the cautionary tale whispered about in carpools and PTA meetings.This is what happens when you have too many kids and lose your mind. You turn into her.
These women had once relied on me. Now they couldn’t meet my eyes because they didn’t know what to say to me.
Maybe it was unfair to cast them all with the same dye, but beyond some initial casseroles after Grady’s funeral, I hadn’t heard from one of them.
“How are you, Liz?” the counselor asked me from behind her desk.
“I’m alright, thank you.”
“Please, have a seat.” I followed orders. “Do you know why I called you in here today?”
I tried not to feel like a ten year old again. “No, the kids haven’t said anything.”
She pressed her thin lips together and looked down at some papers in front of her. “But you know Abby has been having problems in nearly all of her classes? She’s been acting out, disrupting lectures and not turning in her homework?”
“We’ve been working on all of that.” I suppressed the urge to run my hands over my face with frustration. “She’s had some difficulties since Christmas.”
“What happened at Christmas?” Ms. Conway gasped as if waiting for some piece to this unsolvable puzzle that was my second born child.
“We celebrated it without her father for the first time. It’s been hard on all of the kids, but Abby is my only one that reacts disruptively with grief. She isn’t processing this well.”
Ms. Conway let out a short, irritated sigh, as if my daughter’s pain irritated her. “Well, it’s the beginning of February now, Liz. I know that Abby is going through something tough, but she is causing major problems for all of her teachers. If she doesn’t change her behavior soon, we’re going to have to take disciplinary action.”
I shook my head, trying to make her words disappear. “Ms. Conway, I know that she can be a handful, but she’s been through so much. She’s not a bad kid; she’s just a little girl that misses her daddy. We’re working through her pain, but it takes time.”
“I know you think I’m the bad guy here, but I’m just trying to help her. She has to learn that even through roughtimes,she still has to follow the rules at school and in society.”
“Shewilllearn that,” I promised. “I’m working with her at home and she’s opening up more. I am hoping she’s processing Grady’s death more maturely now. She just turned seven a few weeks ago. That might be part of the problem and part of the solution.”
“What do you mean?”
I clasped my hands together in my lap to keep from fidgeting. “Abby’s birthday is in January, so between the holiday season and her birthday, she had to face a lot of important, special family events that her dad couldn’t be at. That was very hard on her.On all of us.But she is seven now. She’ll grow up some in the next few months, she’ll mature. This has been a tough year for her, but I know she’s getting better. Just give her a little bit more time.”
