Carry the Light (9 page)

Aunt Dorothy tilted her chin up. “I only had one jelly donut.”

Annie patted her stomach. “I had one, too. Then Dorothy and I ate a cream one. They're really my favorite. I would have enjoyed a second cream donut, but Madeline ate it.”

Madeline huffed. “You had two and a half donuts, not two. I thought the vanilla iced spinners were your favorite. That's why I split one with you and gave you the half with the most cinnamon. If I'd known the cream one was your favorite, I wouldn't have eaten it.”

Aunt Dorothy frowned at Madeline. “You know Annie's favorite donut is whatever she happens to fancy from one day to the next.”

“Unlike a certain someone I know who hasn't changed her mind about her favorite since she started working,” Annie said. “And we had to stop on every payday on our way home from work to buy one, too. I think they were only a nickel back then.”

“Twists and fritters cost a nickel. The jelly donut I've always favored cost seven cents,” Aunt Dorothy corrected her.

“Well, they all cost ninety cents apiece now,” Madeline whined. “How fair is that for seniors like us who have to live on a fixed income?”

“Not fair at all,” Charlene agreed, “which is why I'm going to wrap these up so you can take them home with you.” She set her three bags on the counter, picked up the box and carried it back to the counter. “Do you have a preference? Or can I just split what's here and add them to what I bought for you?”

“But we brought them for Dorothy,” Madeline protested.

Charlene cocked a brow. “Aunt Dorothy isn't supposed to eat donuts at all, let alone this many.”

Madeline leaned toward Aunt Dorothy and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is she always so bossy?”

Annie leaned forward, too. “She's not bossy. She's sweet. She's just trying to help keep Dorothy on her diet.”

“Why?” Madeline countered, continuing the conversation as if Charlene could not hear them. “Dorothy hasn't kept to her diet for years.”

Aunt Dorothy patted each of her friends' arms. “Make Charlene happy and take the donuts home. But take a good look first. There are three bags on the counter,” she pointed out. “One for you both and one for me. And if I know my Charlene as well as I think I do, she's got a couple of jelly donuts in my bag.”

When the three women looked over at the counter, Charlene pretended she hadn't heard a word.

“Just split the leftover donuts however you like,” Aunt Dorothy said. “There's some plastic wrap and aluminum foil in the drawer.”

Charlene made quick work of wrapping and labeling the leftover donuts, and added them to Annie's and Madeline's bags from McAllister's, fully aware that all three women were watching her carefully. She hesitated for a moment before she opened the bag she had brought home for Aunt Dorothy. “I'll wrap up each of your jelly donuts individually,” she said.

Aunt Dorothy grinned at her friends. “See? I told you I know my Charlene.”

“And I'm getting to know you,” Charlene murmured to herself. She removed Aunt Dorothy's jelly donuts from the bag, wrapped them, labeled them and placed them on opposite sides of the freezer, tucked among other foods. She grinned. Even if Aunt Dorothy found one jelly donut, her sugar level might be down a bit by the time she found the other, which had purposely been mismarked.

I
f the first full weekend Ellie had spent living with her mother had tried and tested her patience, she was unexpectedly rewarded twofold on Monday morning.

First, her mother's closest friend, Phyllis Kennedy, showed up at Ellie's house to spend the whole day, easing Ellie's concerns about leaving her mother alone before the Total Care system was fully put in place later in the week.

Her second reward came at work.

She arrived at seven-thirty, went straight to the sign-in sheet, skimmed the other names and smiled. Even running late—she'd taken her morning walk a little slower for Charlene—she was still a Welleswood Wonk.

“And proud of it,” she murmured, embracing the derogatory title given to her and five other experienced teachers who always reported to work early.

The name had been coined by a group of nontenured teachers who were referred to, in turn, as the Welleswood Wonders. The four young teachers had the arrogance to presume they already knew all there was to know about teaching. To add insult to injury, the Welleswood Wonders dressed like they were headed to an afternoon barbecue, wearing flip-flops and Capri pants, instead of to a professional day in the classroom.

Operating at full speed, Ellie turned to leave the office and nearly bumped into her supervisor.

“Mr. Pepperidge! I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in.” She backed up a step.

He glanced down at her over the rim of his half glasses. Half the faculty joked that those spectacles were super-glued to the end of his nose. Ellie was among the other half, who respected Nate Pepperidge as both a scholar and a gentleman, and she refused to link his name with a joke of any kind.

“Pace yourself, Eleanor,” he said. “When the feet tread slowly, the heart beats steady and the soul listens gently to the universe.” There was a hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“How's your mother?” he asked, his gaze gentle and concerned.

She shifted her briefcase. “Doing well, thank you. She's staying with me for a few weeks, but she's hoping to be in her own home by Easter.”

He nodded. “Good. Stop by my office when you finish your last class. And bring your file.”

She cocked a brow.

“Your personal file,” he elaborated. “I'd like to make sure all your transcripts and certifications are in order before I write my recommendation. May I assume you're still interested in applying for my job?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you going to retire this year?”

“Answering my question with a question of your own leaves me wondering if you want to answer the question at all,” he reprimanded. He insisted on clarity in speech, and had done so for many years supervising students and teachers alike.

She straightened her shoulders. “Yes. I want to be the supervisor of the language-arts department at Welleswood High School,” she said confidently.

“Better. Precisely stated and on point.” Then he looked around as if reassuring himself they were alone. “I'll be tendering my letter, expressing my wish to retire effective July first, to the principal this morning, but I would ask you to keep this information to yourself.”

“Certainly,” she promised, and hoped he couldn't hear how loudly her heart was pounding or see how her hands were trembling. “I'll be at your office by eleven forty-five with my personal file.”

“Splendid,” he replied, and stepped away to collect his mail.

Ellie walked out of the main office as slowly as she could, but the instant she rounded the corner, she started to speed-walk to her office. She shut the door behind her, tossed her purse on top of her desk, put her briefcase on the seat of her chair and raised her arms over her head.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

She whooped and did as much of a victory dance as she could in the cramped space until she was breathless.

Finally, after thirty-five years of teaching!

Finally, after seven years as department head!

Finally, after working hard all day and taking classes at night to get the certification she needed!

Finally, after waiting patiently, year after year, for the position to be open!

Finally, her career goal to become the department supervisor was within reach!

Finally!

“Calm down. Slow and steady,” she told herself, repeating her supervisor's words. She paced the length of her narrow office, calmly and deliberately, breathing deeply as she tried to ground herself in reality instead of dreams.

Nate Pepperidge might be retiring at the end of the school year, but that didn't mean she would automatically be appointed to fill his position. Granted, he was held in great esteem by everyone in the school community and the town. With his recommendation and her credentials, she had an excellent chance of landing the job she had coveted for years.

State law set strict guidelines for local school boards. All positions had to be posted and advertised before qualified applicants were interviewed. Only then could the position be filled. She had also been an educator long enough to know the maxim that seemed to prevail more often than not in most school districts: They would post and advertise every job, but no job would be posted before it was filled.

Mr. Pepperidge's plan to network on her behalf was in her favor. Realistically, she also knew that if a member of the school board or a local politician had a relative or friend who wanted the position, she would be history, and she would be long retired before the position would be open again.

Still, just the prospect of being able to apply for the position put a bounce in her step as she walked to her desk, eager to share her news. With a racing heart and trembling hands, she reached for the telephone and picked up the receiver. She glanced at the pictures of her family on the desk, and slowly set the receiver down.

She had no one to call.

Her late husband, Joe, was the one person she wanted to call. He was the one person who would have understood her elation and he would have jettisoned caution in favor of celebrating the opportunity she now had to fulfill her dreams.

But Joe was not here.

Not anymore.

She blinked back tears and glanced at the photographs of their children. Both Alex and Richard knew how much this opportunity meant to her, but the time difference made it too early to call them.

Just looking at her mother's picture was enough to dampen her spirits and squash the joy pumping through her veins. She fought a new wave of tears. Sharing her excitement with her mother was an invitation to heartbreak. Ellie knew that sad fact from experience.

Seven years ago, when she had been appointed as department head, she had foolishly called her mother to tell her about the promotion. Instead of offering her congratulations or expressing pride, her mother had pointed out every negative connected to the position. By the time Ellie had hung up, every bit of triumph she had felt had been extinguished.

She did not want to go through that again.

Not without Joe to help her as he had done then, and on many other occasions throughout their married life when her mother's criticisms had overshadowed her happiness.

“I have no one but You,” she whispered, bowing her head and sharing her joy, as well as her fears, with the One who never let her walk alone and who would keep her light burning—her Heavenly Father.

 

“Homework. Homework. Homework. Tomorrow. One hundred percent. Right?” Ellie asked as the clock ticked off the final fifteen seconds of her last teaching period.

“Right!” the class cried in unison.

She frowned and looked at several boys sitting in the back of the room. “I couldn't hear all of you.”

“Right!” The class called out louder, although three boys in the back still wore the same bored looks.

When the dismissal bell rang, she held her place in the front of the classroom and waited for two girls who had reflexively stood up without realizing everyone else was still seated, waiting for permission to leave.

“Sit down! That's not our bell. It's hers,” Jeffrey Kirk yelled at the two girls who seemed totally oblivious to anything but their conversation.

Katy Richards finally looked around and hit her seat hard. Kelly Meyers sat down again, too. “Sorry, Mrs. Waters,” they mumbled.

Ellie grinned. “No problem, ladies. Don't forget, everyone. Try the extra-credit assignment tonight, too. And pick up any papers that have dropped on the floor on your way out. You're dismissed.”

While the students filed out, Ellie did her customary desk check. She carried a spray bottle of cleaner in one hand and a plastic scrubber in the other as she walked up and down the rows of desks, looking for any scribbles on a desktop.

Relief that no one had mentioned the false alarm at her house on Saturday and that her cell phone had been quiet all morning was short-lived. No sooner had she spied the picture of a house, with a police car, fire truck and ambulance, all in a circle with a line drawn through it on one of the unassigned desks in the back of the classroom, than her cell phone started to vibrate.

She scrubbed the picture off with one hand and pulled out the cell phone with the other. She flipped it open without looking at the caller ID; there was only one person who would be calling her. “Mother? What's wrong?”

“Ellie, this is Phyllis Kennedy.”

Ellie stopped scrubbing and felt her heart skip a beat. “Is my mother all right?”

“Rose started complaining about a pain in her arm almost as soon as you left this morning, and it just got worse by the hour.”

Fearful that her mother was having another heart attack and horrified that both her mother and her friend had not called for an ambulance right away and had waited so long to call her, she rushed to the front of the room. “Tell her I'm on my way, but hang up right now and call nine-one-one,” she ordered as she dropped her cleaning supplies into the bottom drawer in a file cabinet and kicked the drawer closed with her foot.

“We did that, dear. That's why I'm calling. We're in the emergency room at Cedar Grove Hospital, and I just stepped outside to call you—”

“Cedar Grove?” Ellie cried, her distress rising. “Why didn't they take her to Tilton General?”

“I'm not sure. The ambulance people said something about having to take her here. To be honest, I wasn't paying close attention. I was too worried about your mother, which is why I'm calling. They've taken her upstairs for some kind of test, and I don't think she'll be back for at least an hour. I'll be able to stay here with her until three o'clock or so, but I think she'd rather have you waiting here when she gets back. Is there any way you can leave school now?”

“Absolutely,” Ellie told her.

“I'll meet you in the emergency room, then,” Mrs. Kennedy said and hung up.

Ellie grabbed her briefcase, charged to her office to get her purse and stopped at the main office to tell the principal's secretary she was leaving.

All the while, she was praying nonstop for her mother and begging for more time to reconcile their differences, but she was halfway to the hospital before she realized she had forgotten all about her meeting with Nate Pepperidge.