Marie reeling for weeks. After a month in which she refused to give him the satisfaction of calling, Robert had briefly returned to the house to suggest a legal separation.
Remaining as unemotional as possible, Anne Marie had agreed. Perhaps living apart would be best while they both considered their options. By then, Anne Marie had been angry. Okay, furious. She’d wondered if Robert had ever really loved her. How selfish, how unfair, how…male of him.
Anne Marie felt it was imperative that Robert know she was serious about a baby. He’d moved out of the house and, following his lead, she’d moved out, too, leaving the place to sit vacant. Fortunately she had the apartment above the bookstore, which had recently become available. She hoped such a drastic action would give Robert notice that she was more than able to support herself—more than capable of living her life without him. In his own fit of defiance, Robert had listed the house, which was in his name. Everyone was surprised when it sold the first week. Anne Marie’s things, whatever she hadn’t moved to the apartment, had been taken to a storage unit. It had all been so petty, so juvenile.
Their separation had become a battle of wills, each of them intent on showing how unnecessary and superfluous the other was. They were clearly destined for the divorce court, until Anne Marie decided enough was enough. After all, this was the man she loved. Despite everything—her disappointment, her anger toward Melissa—her feelings for her husband hadn’t changed. The day she called Robert at the office had been a turning point. She admitted she missed him and was sorry the situation had deteriorated so far. He seemed surprised to hear from her and at the same time delighted. He said he was sorry, too, and they’d agreed to meet for dinner.
The one stipulation was that there be no talk about Anne Marie having a baby. Although she didn’t like it, she’d promised. Dinner was wonderful and Robert had gone out of his way to make the evening as romantic as possible.
Robert Roche could certainly be charming when he put his mind to it, and that night he’d charmed himself right into her bed. Their lovemaking had always been powerful and it felt so wonderful to be with him again. Then, in the morning when she awoke, Anne Marie discovered he’d left during the night. That was like a slap in the face. It would serve him right if she ended up pregnant, she’d thought angrily.
Only she hadn’t.
They’d continued to meet and to talk regularly but that was the last time they’d made love.
Shaking her head, trying to free herself from the memories, Anne Marie realized she’d been standing in front of the elementary school for ten minutes without moving. Making a determined effort, she walked into the building.
She had an appointment with the school counselor, Ms. Helen Mayer, at ten-thirty and she was already five minutes late.
As soon as Anne Marie entered the school, the hallway immediately filled with noisy youngsters, all of them trying to get past her and outside. But for the first time that day, the sun peeked out through dark clouds, and she took that as a favorable sign.
Eventually Anne Marie located the school office, which had a small waiting area, a large counter that stretched across the room and a number of offices behind it.
“May I help you?” the woman at the counter asked.
“I’m Anne Marie Roche. I have an appointment with Ms. Mayer.”
“You’re here for the Lunch Buddy program?”
“That’s right.” Anne Marie nervously brushed her hair away from her face. She wore it straight, shoulder-length, and had dressed in wool slacks and a white turtleneck sweater. Now that she was actually at the office, her uncertainty returned. She wasn’t convinced this was the best project for her, wish list or not. She didn’t know anything about children of elementary-school age, or any age for that matter. Her experience with Melissa hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in her ability to relate to kids.
“Ms. Mayer is meeting with the other volunteers in Room 121,” the woman told her. “There’s an orientation first.”
“Okay,” Anne Marie said with a nod, figuring the orientation would help her decide. “How do I find Room 121?”
“It’s easy. Just go out the way you came in, take a left and follow the hallway to the end.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the secretary mumbled as she turned back to her computer screen.
Mentally repeating the directions, Anne Marie stepped out of the office. For a moment she hesitated, thinking she could just leave now, simply walk out. She didn’t know any young children and couldn’t imagine what they’d want to talk about. But her hesitation was brief. The prospect of confessing to Elise that she hadn’t even tried compelled Anne Marie to go to Room 121.
Two other women and one man were already seated on metal folding chairs at a long conference table. There was a chalkboard behind them. Helen Mayer welcomed her with a gesture toward an empty seat.
“You must be Anne Marie,” she said. “Meet Maggie, Lois and John.”
Anne Marie nodded in the direction of the other volunteers and pulled out a chair. She still felt the urge to make an excuse and walk out. She couldn’t, though. Not without at least going through the orientation.
“I believe that’s everyone,” Helen said, reaching for a piece of chalk. She walked over to the board and wrote each person’s name.
During the next thirty minutes, Anne Marie learned that this was a four-month commitment. She must agree to meet faithfully with her lunch buddy once a week for that period of time.
“Every week?” one of the other women asked.
“Yes, the same day if possible but it’s understandable if you occasionally need to change days. It’s best for the children to have a sense of routine and trust that you’ll be here for them.”
The others all nodded. A little belatedly, Anne Marie did, too.
“Next, we ask that you eat the food from the cafeteria. Lunch Buddy kids get their lunch free, thanks to a government subsidy, but you can buy yours at a minimal charge. If you must bring in food from outside, please check to be sure the child you’re paired with doesn’t have any food allergies.”
That was reasonable, Anne Marie thought.
“After lunch you can let the child take you to his or her classroom. Or you can go outside for recess if you prefer. The idea is to spend the entire lunch period with your assigned child.”
“Do they still jump rope?” Lois asked.
Ms. Mayer nodded. “With the same rhymes we used when I was a girl.”
The women exchanged smiles.
“The important thing is to interact with the child,” the school counselor continued. “Get to know him or her and forge a friendship.”
“What about seeing the child outside school?” This question came from Maggie, who appeared to be in her early fifties.
“That’ll have to be approved by the child’s parent or guardian.”
Anne Marie couldn’t imagine seeing
