Kindergarten Baby: A Novel (3 page)

Awhile later, clean and dressed, she made her way back downstairs.

“All right, much better,” Laura said with approval. “I think I might even recognize you now if we passed on the street. First a little food, then we’ll make a plan. I, for one, want to find out just who this woman is.”

Lindsey was too weak to argue. Besides, as much as it hurt to think about the other woman, she, too, wanted to know who she was. What was so special about that woman that had made him want to leave their marriage?

“I can’t believe he’d do this to you‌—‌or even to himself, for that matter,” said Laura. “You two were the perfect couple.”

“You know it wasn’t perfect,” corrected Lindsey.

Laura shrugged. “Okay, but it was better than most. He at least could have had the decency to take her someplace else, though. I mean, right here in your own home? That’s…‌that’s not right. That’s beyond hurtful. Almost vicious.”

A car pulled up, the tires crunching gravel as it parked. “Speak of the devil,” muttered Lindsey.

Anthony didn’t seem bothered by the cold looks aimed at him. Instead, he swaggered into the kitchen and regarded them both as if they were the ones who had done something wrong.

“Let me guess,” he began, his tone thick with sarcasm. “You’re talking about me, right? Me, the bad guy.” He crossed his arms. “Well, gossip all you want, but I did what I had to do. A man needs a woman who has time for him. I did you a favor, Lindsey.” His voice rose in volume. “Now you can write in your precious little plan book all you want. You can call as many kids’ parents as often as you want. You can go to PTA meetings and Math Nights and In-services twenty-four hours a day for all I care,” he shouted angrily.

He paced the kitchen one more time, then dashed up the stairs. Within moments he was back, a bulging duffle bag slung over his shoulder, ready to make his second grand exit. Grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter, he turned toward the two women and spoke his parting words.

“At least Shawna has time to make dinner for me.”

The door slammed, and Lindsey and Laura turned toward each other.

“Shawna?” was all they could say.

***

On Monday morning Lindsey took a deep breath, put on a happy face, and stood at the classroom door, welcoming her students as they entered. Her legs still trembled with weakness as she fought the residual symptoms of the flu. At least the worst was over. If only she could say that for the rest of her life. She was completely unable to shake the haunting vision of her husband in their bed with that woman only four days before.

Twenty-six happy children sang brightly as they gathered on the rug area around her, completely oblivious to the nightmare her life had become. “Good morning to the sun, good morning to the…”

When the song was over, Emma was the first to ask. “Where were you?”

“We got to watch Garfield,” Marvin shared.

“Yeah, but the sub was kinda mean,” Harley said quietly.

Questions and comments came fast and furious, and she wasn’t surprised. She had never missed a full day of school before, let alone two. And since this was kindergarten, Lindsey was the first teacher most of them had ever known. With her gone, the students had discovered that not all teachers possessed the patience or kindness that came so naturally to Lindsey.

“She yelled at us,” whined Bobby. “And she made Joseph sit in the corner by himself.” Bobby was a perpetual whiner. Even when things were going well. Today, however, his tone seemed more grating than usual.

Teaching kindergarten was not for everyone. Being around one or two five-year-olds for a day can be difficult; being in a room with twenty-six of them can be impossible. It can push a normal person right over the edge, and Lindsey could attest to that. Even for her, there were days when she would have liked to send Joseph to the moon. But she never let it show.

Lindsey explained all about her bad cold then read the story,
Teddy Bears Cure A Cold
by Suzanna Gretz. Needing a little time to herself, she suggested they all sit and make pictures of their own experiences with sneezing, sore throats, or runny noses. Out came the pencils, crayons, and paper, and away to the tables went the eager young artists. Lindsey went to her desk to blow her own nose and take another dose of Tylenol.

From her desk she observed Willy demonstrating his ability to blow snot bubbles out of his slightly runny nose. His table partners displayed varying reactions. Emma politely tried to ignore him; Maggie’s face showed disgust at his grossness; Harley giggled; and competitive Joseph tried his best, with no luck, to make something, anything come out of his nose.

Lindsey’s classroom was cheerful and tidy‌—‌or at least it was tidy compared to most kindergarten classrooms. Martha Stewart might not approve, but students, parents, and other teachers did. Lindsey was a master organizer with color coordinated tubs, all labeled appropriately and housing things like writing folders, individual book bags, thematic folders, and music folders.

“Can I shut off the lights?” Alexa asked about twenty minutes later.

“Yes please,” Lindsey said with a small smile. “It’s time to clean up.” Turning off the lights was part of a routine she was teaching the children, and it made her happy to see them learning.

When the lights went out, everyone froze.

“When the lights go back on,” Lindsey said quietly, “Please put everything away and join me on the rug.”

A few minutes later, the little group crowded around her, eager to see what she had planned.

“All right,” Lindsey said, holding up a pile of the students’ ‘illness’ pictures. “Who would like to share?”

Many hands went up, and Lindsey called on Emma first. She was a great role model and always showed the other students what was expected of them.

“This is a picture of me lying on the couch,” Emma explained. “I’m watching TV and drinking lots of juice to make me better.”

“What’s all the white stuff all around you?” asked Armando.

“That’s all my Kleenexes. I had a very, very, very bad cold.”

“What’s that thing that looks like a pig?” Willy asked with a sneer. He was expecting to get a laugh out of the other kids, and he did.

“That’s my dog Sally,” snapped Emma. “Sally always stays with me when I’m sick. She’s the best dog in the whole wide world.”

Emma’s words brought Lindsey’s thoughts back to her own home, her own very, very, very bad cold, and her own best-in-the-whole-wide-world dog. And, of course, these thoughts segued her thinking to Anthony. She puffed out a breath, feeling as if a ton of shapeless bricks had suddenly crushed the life from her petite body. She silently gave thanks that the end of the school day was near. She could hang on for another thirty minutes. She had to.

“Miss Lindsey!” whined Bobby.

Lindsey shook her head for the millionth time. “Bobby, you know I don’t call on students that are being noisy.” Maybe by the end of the year he would finally get the idea.

He sat quietly while the next student shared his picture, then she did call on him.

“Um, um,” he said in his shrill voice, “I worked really hard on my picture, and I like it. It’s me. I’m sick, and I’m wearing my favorite Rug Rats pj’s. I had to stay home from school.”

Bobby’s art was always a little on the bizarre side, and this picture was no exception. He definitely had a style: chaotic. He could make a picture of a flower look like a monster. If he drew a cat, it became a devil-cat, with daggers for claws and spikes for teeth. In her opinion, Bobby’s pictures were far more appropriate for a Steven King movie than a kindergarten classroom.

“Thank you, Bobby,” she said sweetly. “We have time for one more. Who else would like to share?”

“Miss Lindsey, who is that the man in Bobby’s picture?”

Without hesitation, Bobby answered. “That’s my dad.”

“Wow! Your dad gets to stay home with you when you’re sick?” asked Connie. She sounded slightly envious.

“Just when he’s sick, too.”

“What’s he holding?” Joseph asked.

“His medicine and the big stick. He carries it because he’s the big dog at our house,” said Bobby, pleased to share.

“That’s a pretty big thermometer, Bobby. I’m sure your dad took good care of you.”

“Oh no, Miss Lindsey. It’s not a thermo…‌nomo…‌mometer. It’s his power stick. It gives him power, and it makes mom be good and—”

The buzzer rang, and the kids jumped to their feet, forgetting all about the power stick. Saved by the bell. Lindsey said ‘goodbye’ and ‘see you tomorrow’ to each of her students as they left, and she made sure that Bobby received a giant-sized smile. Lindsey was suddenly concerned that he would tell her something that could not go unreported. She could tell he was getting close.

He’d never mentioned his dad before, and the man had never come to school. Not even for Open House Night. And now she had to wonder about this ‘power stick.’ Was it a sign of violence at home? Lindsey hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be a CPS (Child Protective Services) case, but on the other hand, Bobby was a strange kid. Maybe it was nothing more than that, she tried to convince herself. Maybe she was just overreacting because her own life was so unbearably awful.

If only she had her own power stick. A little superhero talent, maybe some Pokémon energy…‌something! With supernatural powers she could right all the wrongs she witnessed at school. She could spin the earth around backwards like Superman had done in the movie, undo the catastrophic event that had plagued her since childhood, and go back to the happy days when her marriage was new, fresh, and alive. When Anthony had loved her, and only her.

CHAPTER FOUR

They’d been married in a setting perfect for Snow White, complete with woodland creatures chattering all round them and the Big Thompson River gurgling just a few feet away. Beside Lindsey stood the handsome prince.
Her
handsome prince. They exchanged simple gold bands and spoke traditional wedding words, pledging to always be faithful to one another. Everything had been perfect.

Now he stood before her, a completely different man. A man she didn’t know. He’d taken most of her heart, and today he’d come back for the rest of it.

“No, Anthony. You can’t take him,” she pleaded. “Please don’t take him. He’s all I’ve got.”

He’d run off with another woman then come back to take the dog, too?
Who stooped that low?
But how could she stop him? Call the police? No, they wouldn’t come for something like that. And though she was sorely tempted to punch him, getting physical or using any kind of force was out of the question.

“I’ll be completely alone without Wendell. How can you do this to me? Besides, when couples split up, the child stays with the mother,” she begged, knowing she sounded desperate. She didn’t care. He
had
to give in!

But Anthony just rolled his eyes. “If you’re done traveling down memory lane and taking your little fantasy trip back into the ‘50s, I’ll just take Wendell and go,” he snipped. “Shawna and I have a large house and an even bigger yard. Several acres, actually. He’ll be much happ—”

Her sadness suddenly took a backseat to anger. “What do you mean you have a big house and yard?” She couldn’t stop her upper lip from curling into a sneer. “Don’t you mean
Shawna
has all this?”

He looked down his nose at her, affronted. “No,
I
do. And I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“Well, if the shoe fits—”

“Shawna is too young to have earned much money yet. It’s mine. And I worked hard to get it.”

“And just how can that be?” she demanded. “We were broke! We’ve lived in this tiny house because you said you needed every penny of your income to set up and support your fledgling practice. We’ve lived off my teaching income, so that you‌—‌we‌—‌could accomplish that. Now you’re telling me that you have a large house on several acres of land a mere two weeks after you walked out on me?”

Pieces of the puzzle were coming together. The life she’d so longed for, so needed to recapture, had all been a lie. A façade. He’d used her as a stepping stone, which meant she was nothing more than a means to an end.

“Shawna is ‘too young’ to earn that much money? Well, at least you’re not after her money. I feel
so
much better knowing that,” she snapped sarcastically. “Tell me. Just how young is ‘too young’ to earn a decent living, Anthony? I’m only twenty-six, and I apparently made enough money for you. How old is Shawna, anyway?”

“That’s not important.”

“You’re the one that brought it up. How old is she?”

“Lindsey, come on. Don’t be so unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?!”
She stepped as close to him as she dared, counting out his sins on her fingers. “You walked out on me. You made love in our bed with another woman. You concealed your financial assets from me.” Her breath quickened, her volume increase. “You concealed an affair that you’ve probably been having for a long time. Now you want to take Wendell, the only thing I have left to care about, and you think
I’m
unreasonable? You
bastard!”
she yelled.

He took a breath, seeming unsure. “You’re losing it, Lindsey,” he said.

She laughed, a short, cold sound that hardly sounded like her own voice. She definitely wasn’t sounding like a kindergarten teacher at the moment. “You’re damn right I’m losing it. And I’ve only just begun. How old is she? I want to know.”

“You really don’t want to know. It’s not important. It’s not relevant.”

“I want to know.”

Anthony strode past her, then picked up the dog’s jumbo dish, leash, and rawhide bone. He gave a whistle and headed angrily toward the door. Wendell’s tail wag was low and confused. He looked at Anthony, then at Lindsey, questions in his eyes.

“Get over here, Wendell!” Anthony yelled.

Tail between his legs, Wendell ran to Anthony and looked up. Anthony nudged the dog’s hip so he moved out of the house, then slammed the door behind them.

A second later, the door opened again, and Anthony poked his head inside. “Twenty,” he said. “She’s twenty and she’s hot! There! Are you happy now?”