The Choice (25 page)

“That's better,” Sandy said.

After practice was over, Sandy rolled the whiteboard back into a corner of the gym while the girls folded up the mats. When she returned to the office, Coach Bestwick was gone, but he'd left her a note taped to the wall beside the hook where she kept her whistle.

Blow three loud whistles if you ever decide to let me buy you a steak, and I'll pick you up at six-thirty.

Maria Alverez wants to see you. I told her to wait beside the main entrance.

—Coach B.

Sandy took the note from the wall and put it in her purse. Maria was a sixteen-year-old girl from Mexico who'd arrived at the school two years earlier. Sandy had been drawn to the shy, withdrawn student during orientation and offered to tutor her in English. It soon became clear that Maria was going to need extra help, and she was placed in remedial classes where the slower pace proved helpful. This semester Maria was in three regular classrooms and on track to successfully complete her junior year.

Even though Sandy was no longer tutoring her, Maria would occasionally come to Sandy's class when the school day ended. She would sit quietly in a desk by the windows while Sandy worked on her lesson plans or graded papers. Maria didn't necessarily want to talk; she simply wanted to be with her. Sandy suspected the young girl's home life was probably chaotic and the classroom served as a refuge.

Just inside the main entrance to the school a small bench was bolted to the floor. When Sandy turned onto the hallway, she saw Maria, her long black hair in a ponytail, sitting on the bench with her head down. A tattered book bag lay on the floor at her feet.

“Hello, Maria,” Sandy called out.

Maria looked up but didn't respond. Sandy sat down beside her on the bench.

“Coach Bestwick said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes.” Maria nodded, her head still drooping. “I have a big problem.”

Maria spoke with a strong accent, but her English had been getting better and better. Sandy waited, but the girl didn't say anything else.

“Does it have to do with Ms. Ranford's class?” Sandy asked, suspecting where the difficulty might lie. “Math is a hard subject, but she can give you worksheets to go over with a student who is a volunteer tutor. If you need help finding a tutor, I can set it up.”

Maria picked up her backpack. Reaching inside, she took out a folder and handed it to Sandy. Inside was a sheaf of papers from the math class. There were red marks indicating mistakes, but overall Maria's scores were okay.

“This looks great,” Sandy said. “You shouldn't be worried. You should be proud of yourself.”

Sandy handed the folder back to Maria, who continued to sit with her head down.

“Do you have a ride home?” Sandy asked.

“Rosalita is going to pick me up on her way home from work.”

Rosalita, Maria's older cousin, worked at a chicken-processing plant. Sandy checked her watch.

“Stay here until she comes. Once you leave the building, the door will lock behind you and you can't get back in.”

Maria looked up at Sandy with pathos in her eyes. A single tear escaped from the girl's right eye and ran down her brown cheek. The tear fell from her face and landed near a rip in her jeans. Sandy put her arm around Maria's shoulders.

“Maria, what's wrong?”

Maria buried her head in her hands and began to cry. The crying quickly turned to sobs. Sandy rested her hand on Maria's heaving back and waited. The sobs turned to sniffles. Sandy placed several tissues into Maria's right hand. The girl wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Mystified, Sandy asked her question again, this time in Spanish. Maria put her hand on her stomach.

“Bebé,” she said.

Sandy's mouth dropped open.

“You're pregnant?”

“Sí.”

EIGHTEEN

R
osalita arrived before Sandy could get much information from Maria, so they agreed to meet early the next morning to talk with Carol Ramsey, one of the school counselors. Sandy and Maria walked out of the building together.

“Don't be late,” Sandy said. “Meet me here at seven-thirty. Okay?”

“Yes. I will be there. Thank you.”

Rosalita's little green car belched smoke as it left the parking lot. There were so many things working against Maria. A pregnancy compounded everything.

Sandy returned to her classroom and looked up Carol's cell phone number in the faculty directory. She didn't know the young counselor very well, but Dr. Vale had made it clear during fall orientation that all serious student issues needed to be funneled into the counseling office. Sandy left Carol a voice message asking her to call as soon as possible.

Sandy left the school and drove toward the center of town. She passed Lincoln Insurance Services, the business started by her father. The agency had grown significantly since her brother Ben took over. Ben was a natural salesman and had opened branch offices in two nearby towns, Kernersville and Tryon. He'd increased revenue so much that he'd paid off his father twice as fast as required by their buyout agreement. The last payment was made a few months before Sandy's father died of a heart attack. Her mother now lived in a retirement community in Sarasota.

Sandy's house was a compact yellow cottage at the end of a short dead-end street. Her property was adjacent to a small park. The park was within walking distance of several residential areas and had become a popular destination for families with children. A hedgerow planted by a previous owner served as a buffer between Sandy's house and the park; however, she could still enjoy the sounds of children playing in the late afternoon when she sat on her screened porch. The backyard was surrounded by a low wooden fence.

Sandy was thinking about Maria as she pulled into her driveway. Her dog, Nelson, was trying to push his nose between the spaces in the fence.

“I'll be back in ten minutes,” she called out to the curly-haired animal.

Sandy unlocked a side door that opened into the kitchen. She placed her tote bag on a round table and poured a glass of purified water from a container in the refrigerator. The floor plan of the house reminded her of Linda's home in Atlanta and was one reason Sandy had bought it. The master bedroom and a tidy guest room were upstairs. The third bedroom was downstairs. Currently it was a computer center, lesson-planning room, and craft area where Sandy created a scrapbook for each year's cheerleading squad. The popularity of the scrapbooks increased with the passage of time, and former cheerleaders who returned for high school reunions loved to gather around the photographs and relive teenage memories.

Sandy changed into exercise clothes. No one who saw Ms. Lincoln walking her dog could call her a slouch. In the fall, Sandy wore stylish workout pants with matching tops. Winter brought out jackets with coordinated hats. Whatever the season, Sandy's wardrobe reflected the orderliness passed down from her mother, and she dressed in a way she hoped would inspire her female students to treat themselves with respect.

She took Nelson's leash from its hook by the door and grabbed the Labrador/standard poodle mix by the collar. The tight curls covering Nelson's body were a clue that he was more poodle than Labrador.

The dog sniffed the ground for a moment before pointing his nose up the street. Within a few steps, he settled in beside her. It was four blocks to the church Sandy attended with her family. She remained a faithful member. A sign in front of the church announced the sermon topic for the coming Sunday: “Don't Be Late for Your Funeral.” Reverend Peterson used catchy but sometimes corny titles in an effort to draw a crowd.

Nelson had the awareness of a Seeing Eye dog of the flow of traffic and waited without being told at street corners until it was safe to cross. Sandy did some of her best thinking and praying on walks. Today she thought back many years to Angelica. After the Hispanic girl moved back to Monterrey, she and Sandy had corresponded for a few months, but when Sandy wrote about the birth of the twins, Angelica never replied. Sandy suspected her friend didn't want to be reminded of the loss of her own baby.

Sandy passed rows of small businesses and shops and turned left in front of the county courthouse. Many people she encountered nodded in greeting. Few knew or remembered her past. After three decades, the community had moved on, and if the subject of Sandy's teenage pregnancy came up, longtime residents focused on the positive influence of her life since then, not the disgrace of a long-ago mistake.

Recent gossip focused on whether the notoriously picky Ms. Lincoln would ever meet a man who could convince her to marry him. Sandy had seriously dated a man in college and fallen in love with him. He'd visited Rutland, and everyone in her family liked him. Her boyfriend's parents welcomed Sandy with open arms. A few months before graduation, Sandy was on pins and needles in expectation of an imminent marriage proposal. One Saturday night her boyfriend took her to dinner at their favorite restaurant and, instead of giving her a ring, told her he wasn't ready for a long-term commitment. Shocked, Sandy asked if that meant a delay. He told her no—it meant the relationship was over. Burned twice by men, Sandy resolved not to be hurt again. The best way to do that was to avoid getting too close to one.

Sandy and Nelson reached the local veterinary practice. The dog looked to the side and sniffed the air. He didn't like going to the vet. He strained against the leash and picked up the pace until they passed the facility.

Sandy's cell phone buzzed. It was Carol Ramsey.

“Hi, Carol. Thanks for returning my call. I just met with a student who has a serious problem you should know about.” Sandy told her about Maria. “Would you be able to meet with her at seven-thirty in the morning?”

“I have a meeting out of the office on my calendar, but I'll get in touch with the other person tonight and reschedule. A situation like Maria's has to take priority.”

“Thanks. See you then.”

Sandy's walking route for the day was a giant rectangle. She and Nelson reached the edge of the business district, then walked down a slight hill toward the elementary school Sandy attended as a child. Beyond that, they entered an older residential area with large trees whose roots caused the sidewalk to crack and buckle.

As she walked, Sandy prayed for Maria Alverez. Times had changed in Rutland since high school girls were automatically expelled for getting pregnant. It wasn't unheard of for a pregnant student to attend classes. Eyebrows went up when a young woman graduated in a gown that couldn't conceal a growing baby, but a new generation had ushered in more relaxed societal attitudes. Sandy suspected none of that was going to help Maria. Her challenges went deeper than the negative opinions of women at the hair salon.

Sandy's favorite residential street in Rutland was an avenue lined on both sides with massive oaks. The large, older houses, with differing architectural styles, occupied spacious lots and exuded character. Locals called the street “Millionaires' Row.” Owners included doctors, lawyers, businesspeople, and old-money families. Ben and Betsy had looked at a house at the end of the row when it came on the market but decided to buy a newer home that required less upkeep. On a teacher's salary, all Sandy could do was enjoy the free view from the curb.

At the end of the street, she was only a few blocks from the park near her home. The park was deserted when she cut through it. Nelson's tongue was hanging out of his mouth with thirst, and he buried his face in his water bowl as soon as they were home. Sandy slipped his leash over a hook on the kitchen wall as the phone rang. It was Jessica.

“How close did I time it?” Jessica asked. “From the time I saw you, I guessed you would walk through the door in another eight minutes.”

“Where did you see me?”

“I drove past you and Nelson going the opposite direction when you were on Millionaires' Row. I waved, but you seemed deep in thought.”

“Yeah, I found out today that a Hispanic girl I tutored a couple of years ago is pregnant.”

“How old is she?”

“Barely sixteen. She cried like a baby when she told me the news.”

“Who's the daddy?”

“I didn't get a chance to ask. Carol Ramsey, the new counselor at the school, and I are going to meet with her in the morning.”

“Why bring in the counselor so quickly? It sounds like the girl trusts you.”

“That's the new procedure. Dr. Vale made it clear at teacher orientation in the fall that when serious personal issues involving students come up, one of the counselors needs to take the lead.”

“And you don't want to use Stanley Lapp?”

“Right. He's not equipped to work with a shy, pregnant teenager. I can tell Carol a little about the student's background and hope she does the right thing.”

Sandy could hear the TV in the background at her friend's house.

“Have you fixed supper?” Jessica asked.