Julie nodded, her eyes glistening. “I know I wasn’t exactly happy about you coming here at first. And everything you uncovered really messed me up for a while. I’m still processing it all. But I can honestly say that I’m glad you came.”
Matilda inhaled a sharp breath to keep her tears at bay. Julie’s words had touched her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. “Thanks, Julie. I really appreciate that. I’ve wondered so many times if I did the right thing, or if I’d just made everything worse.”
“It’s been hard, but the truth is always the best approach. Right?”
“Right,” Matilda replied with a wry smile.
Chapter Seven
At her desk in her new high school classroom, Jessica did her best not to show the students just how aggravated and anxious she felt. It was her first day of school, and so far, it had gone just about as badly as it could. She’d tripped coming up the stairs to her classroom first thing that morning and had grazed both knees. At this point in the day, her legs felt stiff and sore. Then she’d entered the classroom and stood in the middle of the room gazing about in a state of overwhelm.
An unhelpful teaching assistant had poked her head through the door to say hi but hadn’t been able to give much information about where Jessica could find resources. She did tell her about the staff meeting Jessica had missed that morning, though. Even more good news to start the year off strong. She’d been given the job last minute after a teacher had taken sudden stress leave and clearly the principal still hadn’t added her to any staff email lists since no one had notified her about the meeting, so she’d have to visit the office as soon as she got a chance to get that sorted out.
She still wasn’t sure where she would find supplies, lesson plans, curriculum and the other things she needed for the classroom. She’d been assured all of that would be available for her when she arrived. But there was no sign of it, and everyone she’d run into had scuttled away before she could ask too many questions — that was one thing she’d noticed immediately, they were all super busy. The vice principal was away, and the principal hadn’t been in her office all day, as far as Jessica could tell. Plus the IT Support Desk hadn’t provided her with a laptop or email yet and she still didn’t have access to all of the systems she needed.
The grade nine English students had started off well, on their best behaviour after a summer of freedom. But it wasn’t long before they were throwing paper planes, shouting across the room, and generally misbehaving. She tried using the tactics she’d learned at college and while student teaching over the last four years, but in the end, she’d had to raise her voice and order them back to their seats, doing her best not to let them see her shake. After that she had grade ten history, followed by grade eleven English Lit. The day dragged on and on, as though it might never end.
When the final bell rang, she quietly sighed with relief. After the students had filed out, she got to work tidying up the classroom. The teacher from next door, Andrea Winters, knocked on the door and then walked in. She smiled at Jessica.
“I heard them giving you a hard time. You okay?”
Jessica nodded. If she spoke, she might cry, and she didn’t want to be the teacher who cried on the first day of school.
“You’ll do just fine. They’re testin’ you out. They’ll get better. You’re the new teacher, so you’re gonna have to establish your authority before they’ll respect you.”
“Thanks,” Jessica replied softly.
After a quick nod, Andrea returned to her own classroom.
Jessica sank into a chair and pressed both hands to her face. She knew the kids needed her. It’s why she became a teacher. She wanted to make a difference in the world. To do something worthwhile with her life, and maybe help out the kids who needed it most. And these kids sure needed help. Some of them didn’t seem to be able to focus for two minutes straight.
Finally, an hour later, she packed up her things and lugged them back to the rental car. She dropped the books and papers onto the passenger seat. The car was nice, much nicer than anything she could afford to buy right now. But she also couldn’t afford to keep renting it forever, so she’d have to buy something sooner rather than later. The first priority was to get approved for a loan, and she had no idea how to start something like that. Suddenly she missed her parents more than she ever had before. They’d always taken care of those kinds of things for her when she was studying, but now she was out on her own, truly living as an independent adult for the first time, and it was hard.
She drove back to her new house, and the sight of it made her smile. It was good to have a home of her own. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to find an entire house that she could afford. The rent was very reasonable. It was small and old, but she didn’t mind. She liked that it had character. The entire property had an historic feel to it. She wondered what the old farmhouse had seen over the years. Likely, people had fallen in love within its walls, gotten married, had children, experienced grief and loss. The house must have so many stories hidden in its past.
As she pulled the car into the driveway, she noticed something small and grey on the lawn to one side. She climbed out of the car and walked through the grass toward the object to see what it was. It hadn’t been there that morning when she left for work, although it was still partially dark at that time, so she couldn’t be certain.
The moment her eyes rested on it, she stopped still. It moved. Then it issued a plaintive mew. Her eyes widened. It was a kitten. Where had it come from? She scanned the surrounding area, looking for any sign of a mother cat. But there was no movement anywhere other than some birds flitting between the oak trees along the edge of her property.
She walked quietly over to the kitten. “What are you doing here, little one? Where is your momma?”
The kitten mewed and tried to plunge through the grass toward her, paws striding high.
She laughed and bent to pick it up, letting her hands slide gently under and over the creature. It continued mewing loudly. She held the kitten to her chest and once again scanned the neighbourhood. Where had it come from? Maybe she could ask about it next door, but right now, it looked as though no one was home.
The kitten was soft under her hand. She petted it slowly, a smile creeping onto her face. Her headache had begun to fade. She took the kitten inside the house and poured it a saucer of milk. The creature crouched low and lapped it up happily. Then she sat on the front porch swing with her lesson plans for the following day on a small table to her right side, with the kitten purring in her lap under her left hand. She’d taken a couple of Tylenol when she was inside the house and poured an enormous mug of coffee with caramel creamer. She sipped it slowly, then set it down to continue working on her lesson plan while the kitten slept.
What was she going to do with this little animal? It’d obviously come from somewhere nearby. It couldn’t have walked far, as small as it was. Unless a heartless person had dropped it off on the street. Perhaps she could put flyers in mailboxes. Or ask around when she saw people come home from work. The truth was, her neighbourhood was very quiet. Only one car had driven past in ten minutes.
Just then, a man came jogging into view. He wore a pair of shorts, a moss green T-shirt, and a cap that read MARINES. He looked vaguely familiar. She squinted in the fading afternoon light, and suddenly it came to her. He was the man who’d taken her suitcase home.
She startled, sitting up straight on her porch swing. Should she run inside? What was he doing there? Had he followed her? Found out where she lived? She didn’t have her address printed on the suitcase. He must’ve searched for her name and somehow located it. Dread and fear sent a wave of panic through her body. He waved a hand and continued jogging, then looked at her again, recognition dawning on his sweat-streaked face.
“Hey,” he called from the road, waving again.
She waved back, tentative and ready to bolt.
“Aren’t you the woman whose suitcase I stole?” He chuckled.
