Caleb as he’d had with Paige’s phone, except that this time, he didn’t wait for the recorded message to go through its paces. He terminated the call before his brother’s message was over.
Two strikes. Now what?
This Ms. Laramie had said to call to set up an appointment but if he found himself on the receiving end of yet another answering machine recording, he knew he’d probably yank his phone right off the wall. He didn’t want to risk blowing up or losing his temper.
But he couldn’t very well ignore the woman, either. After all, she’d said she wanted to talk to him about Jake. She’d probably get bent out of joint if he didn’t get in contact with her.
Besides, he knew he wasn’t going to have any peace of mind until this thing with the thin-skinned lady teacher was resolved.
That left him only one option. School was almost over for the day, but the last class was still in session. He’d signed Jake up for after school basketball, so that gave him a little extra time. He was going to go down to that school and have it out with that woman before this thing blew any more out of proportion.
With that, Anderson stormed out of the house, the memory of every teacher who’d ever found fault with him all those years ago spurring him on.
* * *
If someone had told Marina Laramie five years ago that she would simultaneously be juggling a teaching career and single motherhood—which entailed taking care of an infant in creative ways she’d never dreamed possible—she would have said that it just couldn’t happen. The very idea of doing both wasn’t feasible.
Yet here she was, fifteen minutes after her fifth graders had filed rowdily out, homeward bound, and instead of contemplating a fun evening out the way she would have only a couple of short years ago, she was hovering over her desk, trying to change Sydney’s rather pungent diaper as quickly as possible.
Marina sighed, shaking her head. This was not quite the carefree life she’d once pictured for herself—but even so, she wouldn’t have traded this life for anything in the world.
“Lucky for you I like kids, muffin-face,” Marina said, addressing her very animated daughter, who apparently hadn’t yet grasped the concept of lying still. The embodiment of perpetual motion, Sydney was all arms and legs and Marina had to be vigilant to keep the five-month-old from literally propelling herself right off the desk that had been temporarily transformed into a changing station. “Even stinky ones,” Marina teased as she succeeded in separating her daughter’s bottom from what was now a considerably used diaper.
Moving swiftly, she cleaned Sydney off and then slipped a fresh diaper under her. The old diaper had been tightly packed into itself like an unusual origami creation.
“Are you timing me?” she asked the baby. Reacting to the sound of her voice, her daughter seemed to cock her head and stare at her with her bright blue eyes. “I’m getting better at this. Yes, I am,” Marina informed her daughter with conviction. “And I’d be better still if you could find it in that heart of yours not to wiggle all over the place quite so much.”
Finished, Marina quickly disposed of the old diaper and deposited it, plus several wipes she’d used, into a plastic bag that she then knotted at the top, sealing away the last of the less than fragrant odor. The janitor hadn’t been by yet and she definitely didn’t want to gross the man out.
“Now then, let’s get you presentable again. A lady doesn’t hang around in just her undies—not unless she wants to get in a whole lot of trouble. Remember that, Sydney,” Marina emphasized. “Otherwise, someday you just might find yourself changing diapers in strange places, too.”
Having finished redressing her daughter, Marina popped Sydney into the car seat she had set up on her desk and tightened every available strap around her daughter—just in case. She knew she was probably being overly cautious, but she didn’t want to take a chance.
“When did I turn into this super cautious, neurotic woman?” Marina murmured under her breath. “I used to be so carefree.”
A lifetime ago, it seemed.
* * *
When he’d turned down the hallway, Anderson had found the door to his son’s classroom open. Hearing the same voice he’d heard earlier on his answering machine, he walked in, loaded for bear. He assumed that this Ms. Laramie was talking to someone, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to know that he was here and that he was ready to have it out with her about whatever it was that she found so lacking in his son—and he wasn’t about to go away until it was resolved.
He hadn’t expected to find his son’s teacher talking to a baby—or changing its diaper, either. Just how young were the kids in this school? he wondered.
The next beat, Anderson realized that the baby she was talking to had to be her baby. That in turn had him wondering just how lax things had gotten in school these days. Why would the principal allow a teacher to bring her baby in to school like it was some kind of a class project?
Didn’t the woman have any money for a babysitter? Or was she checking her fifth graders out for babysitting possibilities?
In any case, all of this seemed like very unorthodox behavior to him. And this Ms. Laramie had the nerve to tell him that they had to talk about his son?
Anderson couldn’t wait to give her a piece of his mind.
“There,” Marina declared after testing the strength of the car seat straps. “That’ll hold you in place, Your Majesty.”
That was when she heard someone behind her clearing their throat. Startled, Marina jumped as her heart launched into double time.
She could have sworn that she and Sydney were alone. Apparently she was wrong, Marina thought as she swung around.
The next second, she blinked, not quite sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing.
There was a six-foot-one dark-haired, blue-eyed stranger in her classroom. A stranger who looked far from happy.
Neither was she, caught like this, Marina thought, flustered as she quickly tossed the bagged diaper into the wastepaper basket. She didn’t like being caught unprepared like this. She was still trying to get her bearings as a working mother and absolutely hated looking as if she was at loose ends.
“Just give me a moment,” she requested, struggling to measure out her words.
She was trying to sound as if she was in control of the situation even though she was very aware of the fact that she wasn’t.
Not waiting for the stranger to respond, Marina quickly hurried over to the sink where her fifth graders washed their hands whenever they got too into recess and enjoying the great outdoors.
Still flustered, Marina turned the faucet handle too quickly. The next second, she found herself on the receiving end of a water spray that promptly soaked her, if not to the skin, enough to look as if she’d been caught in an unexpected fall shower.
Even the floor beneath her feet was wet.
With a dismayed cry that sounded suspiciously like a yelp, Marina managed to turn off the water, but not before she was completely embarrassed.
She
