Kindergarten Baby: A Novel (21 page)

“No drinks, no eats on this plane. Here.” With a sympathetic smile, she offered Lindsey a cookie from a package of peanut butter cookies.

Lindsey tried to settle in, get comfortable, but it was difficult. She couldn’t concentrate. One man in the back of the plane‌—‌the back being only a few steps away‌—‌began singing
Don’t Worry, Be Happy,
and before long two other passengers chimed in. Everyone was having fun, and they actually sounded pretty good. One added some harmony and another started whistling. She didn’t want to interrupt by walking past them on her way to the dreaded airplane lavatory, but she had to. She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Goin’ for a walk, lady?” one of the men asked. “It’ll be a short one. You can’t get in shape on this putt-putt.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to…‌uh… I’m just going to powder my nose.”

A quiet looking older woman glanced up and motioned for Lindsey to bend down so she could whisper in her ear. “Honey, there’s no bathroom on a plane like this. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

Now Lindsey had a new predicament to deal with. Panic set in. It was going to be a very long, uncomfortable flight.

They finally landed, and with the challenges of the plane ride behind her, Lindsey searched for a bathroom in the tiny Rugby airport‌—‌there had to be one. She was desperate to empty the container she’d used as a tiny emergency toilet, given to her by the kind and well-traveled lady on the plane who had also assisted her through the awkward process. With relief she spotted a nondescript door marked Restroom, and she grabbed the door knob, but the door was locked. No problem. She’d waited this long, she could wait a little longer. She heard the flush, the water, and the hand dryer before the door opened.

A tall, stocky man with a friendly smile emerged from the small bathroom. He tipped his cowboy hat in her direction. “Hi, there. Just land?”

“Hi, to you, too. Yes, I flew in from Tucson.” It seemed a little odd, having a conversation with a stranger at the entrance of a bathroom while she held a container of urine; she tried to keep it out of view.

“Tucson?” he bellowed. “I love Tucson. I went to grade school there, and my business takes me there now and then, though I spend a lot more time in Phoenix. Well, you have yourself a good time while you’re here. See you around,” he said, then he turned and headed toward the door leading out of the terminal.

While he walked away, she pondered who he was. He looked comfortable here, as if he’d been here before. Then she wondered what elementary school he’d attended in Tucson, and what line of work might have brought him to Rugby.

Bathroom duties accomplished, Lindsey was at last ready to pursue her purpose for being in Rugby. She approached the only remaining person in the terminal‌—‌a strong, stocky woman at the counter, who was probably the ticket agent, baggage handler, custodian, and security agent all wrapped into one‌—‌and inquired about a hotel.

The woman shook her head. “Nothin’ here that I’d call a hotel,” she said with a chuckle. “We’ve got several rustic cabins for the hunters that come up each year, though. Don’t think you’d like ‘em.”

Butterflies swooped through Lindsey’s stomach. What had she gotten herself into? “I am here for a conference, and it was my understanding that we’d all be staying in one place.”

Light dawned in the woman’s eyes. “Oh, you’re one of the teachers,” she said, smiling with confidence. “I don’t see many of them ‘cause most fly into Bismarck and hitch a ride over to Rugby. I do know that everyone attending that meeting is staying at the Mackelroy place. It’s about five miles from here,” she said. “They converted their old barn into a pretty interesting meeting location. Most folks really enjoy it.”

“Oh, good. Thank you. Can you call a cab for me?”

The laughter was back in her eyes. “No, can’t do that,” she said apologetically. “The folks that fly in to this airport usually have family or friends that pick ‘em up‌—‌no need for cabs. But I can call my sister if you’d like. She’ll be happy to drive you out there.”

Lindsey enjoyed the company and hospitality of the woman’s sister, but she was shocked when she laid eyes on the accommodations: a small house beside a huge barn, both of which looked as if they might fall apart if the wind even thought about blowing.

“Looks can be deceiving,” was all the woman said.

In contrast, all Lindsey could think was
What you see is what you get
.

A young man in his late teens ran out from the small, old house and helped Lindsey with her bags. He led her into the barn, then stood back, obviously enjoying her expression of relief. Inside, the barn had a north woods motif that included a mixture of hidden high tech and luscious comfort, nothing like a typical convention center meeting area. Instead of rows of tables and chairs, an assortment of comfortable leather chairs, loveseats, and sofas arranged in semi-circles took up about two thirds of the room. Western-styled lamps lit the room, which was a welcome change from the normal fluorescent ceiling lights in many meeting areas. Several dozen laptop computers were set out on a long, narrow pine table by the west wall of the barn, and a slightly raised and carpeted presentation area was located at the northern end. The front third of the barn, just inside the massive barn door entryway, contained six large, round wooden tables. The area was separated from the rest of the room by potted pine trees. The young man who had carried her bags informed her that all meals and snacks would be served in this area, family-style.

“I know this must sound like a silly question,” asked Lindsey, “but where do we sleep?”

“Sleep? There’s no time for sleeping here,” the young man said with a straight face. He winked. “Just kidding. Follow me. Every barn needs a place to store the hay.”

He led her upstairs and showed her four bunk rooms, each large enough to hold a dozen sleepers. “This room is yours,” he said. “Enjoy your night.”

About half of the bunks appeared already taken, and their absent occupants had unpacked and organized their belongings. Lindsey did the same. A few minutes later, another woman was escorted up and assigned a bunk. She and Lindsey quickly became acquainted and went to explore the rest of the second floor. They were pleased to discover a very nice bathroom, complete with five stalls, five sinks, five showers, five private dressing areas, and one large hot tub. It was almost like being at camp‌—‌all modern, yet artistically rustic. Lindsey had never seen an interior with so much wood. A great deal of creative and unusual thought had gone into the design and décor of this facility.

When they were done exploring, they sat by the upstairs fireplace, sharing school stories and a few misadventures with men when the announcement came, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Welcome, everyone. Please begin making your way to the dining area and look for your name cards. Dinner will be served in about ten minutes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jake knocked on the door and got no response. He rang the doorbell several times and still heard nothing. Good. That’s what he’d hoped for. But he’d also hoped the front door would be unlocked or at least that the usual hiding place for the key would still be holding a key. He walked around to the side kitchen door, looking guiltily over his shoulder every step of the way.

This door was unlocked. Anthony would have locked it, but Shawna? Well, she might have forgotten. Her mind rarely dwelt on mundane, domestic things. Jake stepped inside.

“I wish you were with me, Wendell,” he said out loud, but the dog wasn’t up to sleuthing yet. He still moved very slowly and with a limp. He’d picked him up as Lindsey had requested; the poor dog was sleeping in his apartment once again.

Jake had brought his camera this time. He’d decided to take photos of anything and everything that he thought might shed some light on Shawna. It wasn’t just for his thesis, though he told himself that was the prime reason for his being there. He figured that in the long run, more knowledge of this woman‌—‌this
couple
—might be helpful to Lindsey.

Today his curiosity overpowered his common sense. He began his snooping at the far end of the house, in the master bedroom, making a mental note to meticulously set everything he touched back to its exact location so no suspicions would be raised. He came up empty in the master bedroom, finding nothing out of the ordinary except for an abundance of dark-colored satin bras and panties. No thongs, though. That surprised him a little. He assumed she’d be the thong type.

Just across the hall he saw a door to another bedroom. Probably a guest room, he thought, though somehow he couldn’t imagine this couple ever having guests. He peeked in, saw nothing at first, but he stopped before skipping the room entirely. Something made him hesitate, and his hand still rested on the door knob. He entered the room to take a closer look around and noticed that the only furniture was a queen-size bed draped with a shiny purple coverlet. There were no drawers to open, no shelves to peruse, just one small door. He presumed that led to an equally small closet.

The closet door was locked, which made Jake more curious than ever. Fortunately for Jake, it was an old, outdated key lock, and he opened it easily with a credit card and the pick on his all-purpose utility knife. He pulled a chord he hoped would illuminate the space, and
voila!
Light…‌and lots of relatively new men’s clothing. Not Anthony’s style, though. Perhaps it belonged to a previous boyfriend or a relative. That might make sense. Jake snapped a few photos then carefully relocked the door.

Jake conducted a mental inventory of his findings as he moved through the house. He had seen a lot of photos of an older man‌—‌presumably her father‌—‌and of a young boy that he assumed was her brother. He only found recent photos of Shawna, none of her as a child. A variety of lawyers’ business cards were stacked in one of the desk drawers, and several paid receipts from a clinic in Trinidad, Colorado were in the bottom drawer, but they were too vague to decipher much more than the amount paid. The oddest papers were some letters held together with a purple ribbon, addressed to a guy named Sean. Uncomfortable about reading private notes, he quickly snapped a photo of two of the envelopes before leaving the house.

Now, as he drove away from the scene of his crime, he regretted not having read at least a few of the letters. His investigative work had raised more questions than answers.

***

“Did you enjoy your Rock Cornish game hen?” asked the woman at the podium. Participants responded enthusiastically with cheers and applause. “Excellent,” she said. “My name is Elisabeth Meriwether. To my right is Frank Bartlett, and to my left is Cheryl Thompson. The three of us organize and oversee this conference every year. This is the fourth annual gathering of
The Innovative Teacher of the Year Award
recipients. We select one winner from each state, and I am delighted to inform you that this year, every winner was able to attend. That is a first!”

Everyone applauded politely, and the participants smiled at each other.

When they were quiet, Elisabeth continued. “We gather here in Rugby every year, right here in this barn. Some of you asked, why Rugby? That’s Frank’s story, so we’ll let him tell it before the conference is over. Between now and then, think about your own answer for the question, ‘why Rugby?’”

Excitement and anticipation grew as Cheryl explained the general schedule and specific events that would take place over the next two days. “Each morning you will awaken to a recorded medley sung by cheerful, local birds‌—‌eastern wooded pee wees, horned larks, black-capped chickadees, and house wrens‌—‌at approximately 6:30, followed by breakfast at 7:30, then introductions and announcements at 8:30. Four oral presentations will commence right after that. Everyone will share, ask questions, build upon the presented information, and be able to apply the new learning to their own teaching situations. After lunch there will be a group excursion lasting two to three hours, followed by ninety minutes of free time before dinner at 6:00 p.m. Immediately after dinner, we will continue our learning, featuring some of the written presentations.”

“Shelley Brown, Ronda Mitchell, Frances Garcia, and Lindsey Sommerfield will be our morning presentation speakers tomorrow. I would like you four ladies to come and see me as soon as we finish here tonight. There is a list of those sharing tomorrow evening’s written reports over by the computers. Do take a packet‌—‌they are on the table by the stairs‌—‌and read through it before breakfast. It should answer most of your questions about the presentations as well as about the follow-up opportunities available throughout the year.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening. Oh, just one more, quick item: because of our dormitory-style sleeping arrangements, lights out is at 10:30. We have clip-on book lights available if you care to continue your reading after lights out.”

No one wanted or needed a book light that first night. Almost everyone had been traveling since the wee hours of the morning, so many were asleep long before lights out. Lindsey wasn’t one of them. Not that she wasn’t exhausted‌—‌she was‌—‌but the reality of speaking in front of this group of educators in the morning had begun to set in. She had to admit, she was nervous. What if she couldn’t remember what to say? What if the pages of her presentation fell onto the floor and ended up out of order? What if her power point malfunctioned?
What if? What if? What if?

After breakfast, Shelley Brown, the Ohio winner, spoke first. She had developed a Supplemental Saturday Program for 4
^th
and 5
^th
grade students who struggled academically due to their inability to succeed in a typical classroom environment. Through her program, the town she and her students lived in‌—‌the parks, the museums, the businesses, the post office, everything‌—‌had become their Saturday classroom.

Next up was Ronda Mitchell from California. Ronda worked at a school where all classrooms were multi-age. She shared several thematic units that she created and currently used with her 1
^st
, 2
^nd
, and 3
^rd
grade students. With these specially crafted units, she could teach the whole group similar concepts and information, but with enough differentiation that all students could participate at their instructional level.