Homecoming Day (5 page)

Debbie set her sandwich down and motioned Laura in. “Laura. Did you need something?”

Laura took the chair next to Debbie's desk, grateful to be off her feet. “I'm here to talk to you about JT Thomas.”

Debbie grimaced. “What did she do now?”

“Nothing. She's serving detention with me and I wanted to get a feel for her schoolwork, and thought we could sort through a few of her problem areas.”

“Well, I'm glad you only intend to work on a few of them, because if you intended to work on all of them,
it would be a full-time job. The girl is one of the most uninspired students I've ever had—she's belligerent, insufferable, rude…”

Laura felt herself bristle at Debbie's obvious dislike of JT. “Fine. You don't like her. But my question is, what can I do to help her succeed in English?”

Debbie shrugged. “Nothing. She's hopeless.”

“So, that's it? That's your teaching plan? Write her off before she's even reached the end of her first term of her freshman year?”

Debbie nodded. “Exactly. You're young and still idealistic, but take it from someone who's been teaching longer than you—sometimes there's nothing you can do for a student. Then the best thing to do is to cut them loose and concentrate on the students you can help.”

Laura rose to her feet with more ease than she had in months. Her anger-induced adrenaline fueled her mobility. “I am not that young or that idealistic. Any idealism I once had died six months ago with my fiancé. And even now, at my most jaded, I would never write off a student. It's lazy, Debbie. If that's truly how you feel about teaching, maybe you should consider retiring before you do any further damage to the students.”

Debbie stood as well and looked as if she was winding up for a response, but Laura didn't wait to hear it. She was too angry. Too…

She stormed out of the room.

Her adrenaline, though, could only take her so far. Still, she made her way to the teacher's lounge and found a dark-haired stranger pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Bad day?” she asked.

“No,” Laura snapped and realized this poor stranger
had nothing to do with Debbie Lutz's lack of professionalism. “Sorry. It's actually been a productive day. Fine, even. The last few minutes, not so much.”

Laura sank into a vacant chair and forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down.

The woman nodded and joined Laura at her table. “Trouble with a student?”

“Sort of. It led to talking to a particular teacher whose attitude was far more troubling.” She extended a hand. “I'm Laura Watson.”

“Eli Keller.”

“Eli?” The name niggled at her. “Possibly related to Lieutenant Seth Keller? He mentioned an Eli.”

“He's my brother-in-law. You know him? He mentioned me?”

Laura felt it was probably better for Seth if she didn't repeat his comment comparing his pregnant sister-in-law Eli to the equivalent of a house.

“He'd mentioned you'd had a baby.” Laura patted her own huge stomach. There, that was diplomatic. “But he didn't say anything about you taking a job here.”

“I'm not. I run the teen parenting program in Whedon. I'm here for a meeting with the other directors. They're in the next room talking. I'm supposed to be on a bathroom break, but stopped in for this.” And she waved her cup. “I'm surprised that Seth even mentioned me at all.” She shook her head as if realizing she was talking out of turn and changed the subject. “So, what teacher had you so annoyed?”

The fact that Eli didn't work here made Laura feel more comfortable asking advice from her. “I have a student, a freshman. She's been in nonstop trouble since
September. I went to ask her English teacher about her and…” Remembering the conversation made Laura's blood boil. “She told me the girl's a lost cause and I should let it go. Well, I won't.”

Eli frowned. “I work with pregnant girls and teen moms. Their parents, teachers and classmates think of them as lost causes. I won't. I'm there to help them stay in school, find whatever resources they need to make that happen. After they graduate, I try to encourage them to continue their education at colleges, or tech schools. That's our job. To teach. To prod. To do whatever it takes so our kids succeed. Never mind this teacher. Be there for your student. Be ready to lend an ear, a hug, or to kick butt if need be.”

“I'm an art teacher.”

“And once upon a time, I'd have been called a Home Ec teacher. Now I'm a Consumer and Family Science teacher. Doesn't matter what label they use. It's the teacher part that matters. No, I take that back. It's the heart part that matters. You care for this girl. That matters. If anything is going to reach her, that will.”

Laura agreed. She liked this woman, Seth's sister-in-law. “I've been wondering about her reading.” She felt more confident now that she'd said the words aloud. “Her math and French teachers both mentioned something about it.”

“Frankly, I think the most direct approach is best. Ask her. Flat out. When I have a girl I suspect is in trouble, that's my approach. Head-on. I don't wait for them to come to me.”

The advice made sense. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. About Seth—how is he?” Eli quickly
added, “We don't see much of him. I know Zac worries.”

“He's good.” Laura remembered his talk of scabs that never really heal. “He's helping me with this student.”

“Friends?” Eli asked.

Laura thought about it. They'd defined themselves as allies, but friends worked, too. “Yes.”

“Good. Everyone needs to feel as if they have someone in their corner.” Eli got up and rooted around in her bag. “Here's my card. Call me if I can do anything for you, this student or for Seth.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Anytime.” Eli started toward the door, then stopped and turned around. “How exactly did my name come up in conversation?”

“Uh, he was reassuring me that I wasn't the biggest pregnant woman he'd ever seen.”

Eli Keller started laughing. “No, you're not. I was huge. Big as a house.”

“I think the term they used for me was McMansion.”

Eli laughed even harder. “How long until you're due?”

“Only a few weeks left.”

“Good luck. A baby changes everything. I can't believe my Johnny's two already.”

If Eli Keller was any indication, Zac came from a nice family. Laura couldn't help but wonder what had happened with them and Seth. Why didn't they see much of him?

She got through the rest of the day and was
determined to follow Eli Keller's advice and ask JT straight out if she had problems reading, but JT had a dentist appointment after school and only stopped in long enough to tell Laura she'd see her tomorrow and make up the missed detention.

Laura mulled over JT's circumstances, and was thankful when Seth called that night. He was working second shift, but he'd taken to checking in with her most evenings. She didn't want to admit that she looked forward to those conversations.

Discussing JT with Eli had been nice, but saying the words to Seth made her tension over the matter ease. “Both her French teacher and her math teacher mentioned problems with vocabulary. She's so smart, but what if she's having problems reading? That would explain why, despite her intelligence, she's floundering in school.”

“That would explain her reaction when I asked for help with the crib instructions,” he mused. “So what are you going to do?”

“I'm not an English teacher, and this isn't my specialty. I know more about teaching basket weaving than reading. But I talked to another teacher and—”

She was going to tell him about meeting Eli and her suggestion, but he interrupted. “Hey, sorry. I've got to go. We have a call.”

“No problem. Bye.”

She'd speak to him about Eli next time she saw him. What she wouldn't tell him was his sister-in-law's comments about his relationship with his family. His difficulties with them were his, as her difficulties were with hers.

They were allies, but they weren't close enough to go butting into each other's lives.

That's what she planned to tell him.

The baby kicked, and she chose to believe it was in agreement.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, L
AURA
was ready when JT came into her classroom to serve her detention. The girl was in all black, including a black pair of combat boots. She threw her books on a desk, but before she could sit down, Laura motioned her to the front of the room.

“What's up, Ms. Watson? Hey, I wanted to know if I could come do more work on the mural. I have this idea—”

Laura nodded at the chair next to the desk.

“Before we talk about the mural, JT, we have to talk about another topic.”

The girl looked nervous. “Did I do something else?”

“No, nothing like that. It's…” Laura hesitated. Part of her wanted to ease into the subject, but instead, she jumped in head-first and handed JT a book. “I'd like you to read the first page to me.”

JT glanced at the book, then at Laura. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

JT passed the book back to Laura. “Read it yourself.”

“That's how you reacted the other day when the lieutenant asked you to read the instructions to him. And when I talked to your teachers—”

JT looked furious. “Why did you talk to them?”

“Because I'm worried about you. We're in your third month of high school, and you seem to be floundering. You're passing your classes, although not by much. Mostly D's and two very low C's. Your French teacher said she was very pleased with your spoken vocabulary, but your written vocabulary wasn't nearly as good. Your math teacher said you did great on equations, but had trouble with word problems. Do you see the theme? I do. So, JT,
do
you have difficulty reading?”

JT kicked the side of Laura's desk. Her heavy boot made a thud that reverberated. “I'm not stupid.”

“No one said you were,” Laura said gently. “But little things you've said and done lead me to believe you might be having a problem.”

“Yeah? Well, if I'm so stupid and can't read, how'd I make it to the ninth grade?”

“If I had to guess, I'd say you're very smart and learned a bunch of tricks that have helped you get by. That maybe when you're asked to read something you don't feel comfortable with, you get mad and cop an attitude.” She pointed at the book on her desk. “Anger is a great way of deflecting a problem.”

“First, you're a reading expert, now, you're a psychiatrist? Gee, it must be nice to know it all, Ms. Watson.”

“Being snarky might work with other people, but I'm not backing down, JT.”

“You talked about my math and French teachers, but how about my English teacher? I bet Ms. Lutz didn't tell you I had a reading problem. Bet she said I was a waste of time.”

Laura didn't respond because although Debbie
hadn't used those exact words, in essence that's what she'd said.

“How come none of my English teachers ever said something? None of 'em, ever.”

“I don't know. But I'm saying something. I noticed. And I'm not going to let you pretend this away.”

JT glared at Laura. “I can read fine.”

Laura handed the book back to her. “Then read the first page.”

JT shook her head. “I don't have to prove anything to you. I don't owe you anything.”

“No, you don't have to prove anything to me, and you certainly don't owe me anything, but I'm not going to stop nagging until you read a page out loud to me.”

“Why do you care?” JT burst out and jumped to her feet. “I've been trying to figure it out and can't. Are you some do-gooder, or are you trying to find something to do since your baby's daddy died? I'm not some distraction for you.” She paced to and fro in front of Laura's desk.

JT's remark had been a direct hit, but Laura wouldn't let her own pain dissuade her from what needed to be done. “JT, nothing, and no one could distract me from the pain of losing my fiancé. You're not some charity case, some cause for me to focus on. This is me, caring about you. This is a teacher who's concerned about a student. Read the page.” She picked up the book and held it out to JT, waiting.

“No.”

Laura had found that sometimes the best argument was saying nothing. She simply continued holding the book and staring at JT, waiting.

JT's pacing slowed, and she glanced at Laura and the book, but didn't say anything, either.

The minutes ticked by. Normally, Laura liked the sound of the clock. Each tick meant she was that much closer to the end of a school day, and when she was in a very pregnant mood, it was a reminder she was that much closer to her baby's arrival. But today, those ticks represented a contest of wills. Hers against JT's. And this was one battle Laura intended to win.

Five minutes must have passed and Laura was ready to set the book down. Her arm was starting to shake from the effort of holding it, when JT sat back in the chair and took the book from her.

She opened it to the first page. “The. WI. N. D. OW. Was. OP. OP. Op. En.”

She slammed the book shut. “There. I read it. I can read, so you can quit worrying.”

“JT, you read a sentence. Painfully. Laboriously.”

“But I read it.”

Laura was by no means an expert when it came to teaching reading, but she knew there was a difference between being able to push your way through the letters and words, and being able to read.

“Listen, JT, I'm an art teacher, but even I know that being able to read easily is necessary in life. I want that for you. You'd have so much less trouble with your classes. Mr. Fritz, the guidance counselor, can set up some special—”

“No.” JT stood again. “He's not gonna put me in the stupid classes. I won't go. I'll quit school first.”

“JT, sit down. I'm trying to help.”

Laura wasn't sure JT would listen, but after a moment, she took her seat again.

She hit the desk with her fist. “You want to help by putting me in with the rejects?”

“That's not kind, and it's beneath you. They're simply students who have problems, or who need help to learn more efficiently. You need some extra help in order to—”

“If you put me in that class, I'm out of here. I mean it, I'll quit school.”

“JT.” Laura didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to communicate with this girl. She knew in her heart that helping JT wasn't some way to fill the void. Laura was a teacher, trying to do her job. More than that, she liked the girl.

“Fine. I love reading, but I'm no English teacher. Still, if you let me, I'll help you.”

Her offer seemed to surprise JT. “Huh?”

“I'll help you. I'll pick up some material, and then you and I will work here after school each day.”

“You're not going to turn me in?”

Laura shook her head. “I was never going to
turn you in.
I am going to talk to the principal—”

“No reject classes, right?”

“Right. You'll have to promise to work hard. But working hard to learn to read better can't be any more difficult than struggling with words and having to cover it up.”

JT didn't have an outburst this time. She didn't look angry or frustrated. She looked truly confused. “Why? You never answered why?”

Laura smiled. “I like you. Why is that so hard to believe?”

JT shrugged. “I do look in the mirror, so, I know, most people see the piercings and all the black.”

“I am not most people. And you really need to see that you are special. You're worth caring about.”

JT snorted her response.

“May I talk to Seth, too? He noticed and is worried.”

“Yeah, but that's it. No one else.” She paused. “He's gonna think I'm dumb.”

“No, he won't.”

“You know, you're kind of naive, Ms. Watson.”

“And you know, you have a great vocabulary. I'm not sure what to do to help, but we'll figure it out between us. For now, why don't you go get your books and begin your homework. Wouldn't it be novel if you went in tomorrow with it all done?”

“My teachers would probably faint from shock. Especially Mrs. Lutz. She hates me.”

“Let's not worry about what the teachers or anyone else says or thinks. Let's worry about you.”

 

T
HAT SAME NIGHT
, S
ETH
walked into his spartan apartment. Normally, he wouldn't have noticed. But his sisters, May, Layla and Cessy had come to Erie to shop a few weekends ago and had stopped by to take him to dinner. His youngest sister, Cessy, never one to mince words, had summed up their collective opinion. “Seth, I've seen prison cells that look better than this place.”

Her comment had stuck with him ever since.

He had a desk with a laptop on it and a sectional in
the main room. The small kitchenette off to the right was more than adequate for the amount of cooking he did, and he didn't need more than the stool and the counter for the infrequent times he actually ate at home.

The bedroom to the left of the main room had a king-size bed and a dresser.

It was functional.

And Cessy was wrong because he didn't know of any prison cell with a sixty-inch flat-screen television. He'd been saying as much to himself for the last week—it wasn't helping. He still noticed how bare his apartment seemed, but he didn't know what to do about it.

His place with Allie had been warmer and felt like a home. His parents and Laura had managed it, too. It wasn't just that they had more stuff. It was a feeling. And while he could go buy more things to put in his apartment, he couldn't buy that feeling.

He gave up staring at the empty apartment and looked up
illiteracy
on Google.

Then he narrowed the search and added
high school.

For the next hour he surfed the net, then left for Borders and picked up two of the books the most helpful website had suggested. Afterward, he headed to Laura's.

Her house was small, and painted a deep gray. It was in a quiet neighborhood not far from his apartment. The place had red shutters, and a small porch bordered by holly bushes, which were still green, despite the November cold.

He knocked on the cherry-red door. He wondered if she'd bought the car to match the door, or vice versa.

Laura opened it as far as the chain would allow, then closed it. He heard the rattle as she took the chain lock off, then reopened the door, this time with worry on her face. “Seth? Is something wrong with JT? Is she back in jail?”

“She was never in jail,” he assured her. “But no, nothing like that. You said you know basket weaving not teaching reading, wasn't that it?” He held the books out to her.

She smiled and nodded. “Come in.”

He liked that phrase a lot. And as he stepped into Laura's hallway, he was struck by how non-spartan her home seemed. It was warm and inviting. There was a coat tree standing next to the door. A long, skinny table next to it. It had a small bowl with keys in it, and a trimmed ivy plant.

Maybe a plant would make his sisters feel better about his house?

“Seth?”

“Sorry.” He stopped worrying about his unadorned apartment and concentrated on JT. “Anyway, did you know that about a fifth of high school seniors can be considered functionally illiterate? A website suggested these books. They're easy readers for older students. I thought they'd be good for JT.”

“This way,” Laura said.

He went back into the small, but neat house. Growing up, his parents' house had been controlled chaos, and his place seemed sterile. Laura's house was a vision of neatness and order. But despite those differences, it
said
home
here as much as his parents' had. As much as his apartment didn't.

Wow, Cessy's comment had bothered him even more than he thought.

“I was making some soup for dinner. Would you like a bowl?” Laura asked.

“You don't have to feed me.”

“My grandmother used to say, I don't have to do anything but die and pay taxes.” Laura stopped abruptly as she said the words. “I guess that's the truth of it. Things happen. And the people left behind have to go on. That seems the hardest part.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Seth said as he pulled a stool up to the island.

Laura bustled around at the stove, not looking at him as she said, “Well, I know that Jay's fine. I know he'd want me to find a way to be happy. Although, I'm not sure how to do it.”

“It hasn't been that long for you,” Seth said softly. He remembered those awful early days and acknowledged how far he'd come. He'd healed without even noticing it. He missed Allie. He always would. But he'd survived. He'd found a life for himself.

He'd told Laura that Allie's death was like a scab that kept getting torn off, but he confessed it had been a long time since he'd dealt with that particular scab. He wasn't sure if he found that idea comforting.

Laura was staring at him. “And you? How long for you?”

“Years.” He could no longer automatically say how long to the day. He did the math in his head. “It's going
on three years. I still feel the loss, but it's not that giant, clawing grief.”

“So, my goal should be to get out of this hole and…” She shrugged. “And then what?”

“And then, once you can see beyond that hole, you'll be able to see your future. You'll be able to remember there's so much more to life and you'll want to be a part of it.”

She dished up bowls of soup. “You haven't.”

“Haven't what?”

She set a bowl in front of him. “Moved past your loss.”

“Most days I have. And that's something.”

She sat down opposite him at the island, her own bowl in front of her. “Maybe it is.” She stirred her soup with her spoon, not taking a bite.

He took a taste. “Hey, this is good.”

“Thanks.” She continued to stir. Round and round. Finally, she said, “So, about JT—”