She shook her head. She couldn’t allow him to distract her. All she’d ever wanted was that house, and she would get it, one way or another.
ChapterSix
The next day, Micah carried the plate of two cookies into Lizzie’s classroom. Snowmen made from paper plates decorated the hallway outside the kindergarten room. They had roughly cut orange triangles for noses and irregular-shaped circles for coal buttons. Paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling, too high for the kids to reach. Groups of children raced from one thought to the next before the bell rang, and a few parents and teachers nodded to him as they went about their business.
Lizzie held tightly to his hand, nervous about the plan she’d concocted to share the cookies with a girl in her class. As a new move-in partway through the school year, she’d been an anomaly the first couple of weeks, with the other children vying for her attention. As the dust settled, old friend groups returned strong, and she struggled to find her place among her peers.
He felt the weight of her situation on his shoulders. He was the one who picked up and moved them to Moose Hollow for a job with better pay, better benefits, and flexibility.
As a master engineer, he ensured an artist’s music was well-mixed, creating the final album before it was replicated and released to the public. He used to do that full time in a studio, but when Lizzie arrived, he realized things had to change.
She squeezed his hand, and he looked down to see her eyes were tightly closed. Her absolute trust in him to navigate the hallway and get her safely to her desk touched his heart. No sacrifice was too big for his little girl. And she was his–or she would be as soon as the adoption papers went through. His lawyer assured him that no one wanted to take Lizzie away from the only person on the planet who loved her and wanted to care for her.
She deserved more, but she’d gotten him.
They entered the bright blue door, and Micah came to a stop. Boys ran from the coat hangers to the bathroom and back again. Girls stood in groups, eyeing the boys with a mixture of mistrust and interest. A few kids had games laid out and rolled dice to move their pieces. The snow outside mandated the children stay inside, and they were full of energy. He did not envy their teacher.
No one seemed to pay him or Lizzie any attention.
Leaning over, he asked Lizzie. “Which one is Jenny?”
Lizzie barely moved her finger to point to a girl sitting at her desk, coloring. She had pigtails and a red sweater. Jenny, Lizzie informed him, didn’t have a best friend. Before school, she was usually with her brother and cousin, who were two grades above her. Lizzie had seen her alone during several recesses in a row, but hadn’t worked up the courage to approach her.
Her lack of confidence about killed him. She was confident in many situations, like inviting herself to Charlotte’s home. Talking with adults wasn’t the problem–it was kids her age. He supposed this could be scary for any kindergartener, but maybe a little more frightening for Lizzie because she’d missed out on preschool and the socialization in a classroom setting due to her mother’s illness.
“You ready?” he asked.
Lizzie nodded, and he handed over the cookies.
Lizzie took a deep breath, let it out, and then walked over to the girl she hoped would be her best friend.
Micah folded his arms and watched Lizzie approach carefully. He prayed Jenny would be kind to his little girl.
Just as Lizzie reached Jenny’s desk, Mrs. Thornton bustled in, her arms full of worksheets. “Elijah. David. Trevor. Find your seats.” The three boys running amuck did what they were asked–no protests.
Micah was impressed. However, when her eyes landed on him, he wanted to run for the hills.
“Mr. Bowman! What a wonderful surprise.” She set the stack of papers down and then rounded on him. Her gray hair was pulled back in a clip with a snowman on it, and her sweater had dozens of nutcrackers haphazardly knitted into the design. “I wondered if I’d ever see you in my classroom since you didn’t sign up for your mandatory volunteer hours.” She pointed to the clipboard by the door where he supposed hung the sign-up sheet.
Micah tugged at his shirt. “Uh, well, working single parent and all that.”
He glanced at Lizzie, unwilling to abandon her if she needed him, but not thrilled about being given a guilt trip for Christmas. Smelling the freshly sharpened pencils and hearing chairs scrape the floor reminded him of his mother’s classroom and all the hours she’d spent educating third graders.
Lizzie held the plate by the edges and told Jenny the story of dumping the sprinkles into the batter.
Jenny covered her mouth, her eyes wide. “You did?”
“Yeah, but Charlotte said it wasn’t a big deal and that she likes them this way,” Lizzie explained quickly.
“Charlotte?” Jenny exclaimed. “That’s my aunt!”
Lizzie brightened. “You know her?”
Mrs. Thornton cleared her throat, and Micah turned back to her. “There are other ways to fill your volunteer hours.” She smiled sweetly.
Micah could practically feel his angel mother breathing down his neck. She’d be mortified to know he hadn’t spent time in Lizzie’s classroom. He knew better.
“What do you have in mind?”
