The Teacher (10 page)

Not that any of this was his concern,
Marcus reminded himself as he stepped off the elevator. But if they weren’t an
item, then what were they? And why was he still thinking about it when he
stepped into the conference room where Richard and Muriel Brooks were waiting?

Chapter
Fourteen

If looks could kill then someone should
be drawing a white sheet up over Emma’s face at any moment. Steven Hoskins,
Donald’s father, sat across the table from her and he’d been shooting her
daggers for the last twenty minutes. What was his issue with her? She showered
him and Jean with praise and kind words on Donald’s effort and attitude in
class and the man still fixed an icy stare on her.

This was, by far, the worst annual
review meeting she had ever attended. Emma looked down at the six-petal flower she
had doodled on the agenda in front of her and started on another one. Mrs. Wolf
passed a sheet of paper to her and she signed it in the appropriate place,
agreeing to the next set of goals for Donald to achieve. Steven momentarily shifted
his glare away from her as he signed the paper.

Another stack of papers came around the
table and she took one passing the rest to Steven. It was what she and Alec had
talked about, the need to do cognitive testing on Donald to determine his IQ. Depending
on the test scores, if they were low enough, he could be identified as mentally
retarded.

Emma caught Alec’s eye as they waited
for the papers to finish making their rounds at the table. He gave her a
here-goes-nothing smile, and she flushed at the sight of his deep dimples, not
to mention those dark, molten eyes she could so easily get lost in. He was so
easy to look at. A pleasure to look at was more like it.

Pay attention
,
she thought, looking away and drawing her eyes to the paper in front of her.

Alec started by gently explaining the
need for additional testing. “It is important that we determine Donald’s current
cognitive level,” he said. “It will help guide us as we continue to plan for his
academic goals.”

Jean nodded, but not Steven. “We know
Donald’s IQ is low. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Now you want to find out just
how low, just how stupid my son is, is that what I’m hearing?” he ranted and
turned to glare at Alec.

Jean turned a deep shade of scarlet. The
rest of the team froze, letting the hostility of the man’s words sweep over
them. Dave, the school’s psychologist, was the first to move. He scratched his
short graying beard and broke the brittle silence with his mellow voice, “It’s
not that we want to know how low his IQ is, but rather how high it is.” Steven
rolled his eyes, but Dave continued, “As educators we follow a map to guide our
students in their learning. For most kids the map is the same, in Donald’s case,
it’s different. We need to develop a specialized one for him. There are
obstacles in the way of him reaching his destination that other kids don’t
have. All we are trying to do is determine exactly what those obstacles are, so
we can plan an appropriate detour for him instead of guessing our way through
and winding up at another series of obstacles or dead ends causing us
all
to feel like we are failing. An IQ test is one more measure that will help
guide us in mapping Donald’s education.”

Steven didn’t respond immediately, but
slowly he began to nod. Alec jumped at the opening and pushed the consent forms
in front of him, then Jean.

“All I need from you is a signature for
your consent to the testing which Dave will be conducting in the next two
weeks.”

After both parents signed Alec continued,
“Once we have the results from the tests we will call you to schedule another
meeting to discuss our findings. Do either of you have any questions?”

Both parents solemnly shook their heads
and Alec pushed back from the table signaling that the meeting was over. Steven
took to the exit before anyone else and Dave and Mrs. Wolf followed slowly and
silently behind him. Jean remained in her seat and gathered her copies of the
papers from today’s meeting into her purse.

“I’m so sorry,” Jean said as she stood.
“For his outburst today. He has just turned so bitter in the last few years.
It’s hard on him that Donald is…the way he is. I know he loves our son, but he
hasn’t figured out how to accept everything that comes along with having a
child like Donald. Today was just one more blow. It’s always been like this
with Donald, there’s always one more worry or concern or test or something we
have to think about.”

Jean’s eyes brimmed with tears and Emma
reached out to hug her. She wanted to tell the woman it would be okay, Donald’s
father would come around or that things would get easier as Donald got older.
But she couldn’t be certain either one of those things would happen. Emma
adored Donald. He was a precious child that sparked joy in her heart, but
Donald wasn’t her son. He was her student and she didn’t have to worry about
him every day and every night and watch him struggle and worry about his
future. Her job ended when he stepped on the bus every afternoon, but his
parents were on a twenty-four hour watch, for the rest of their lives.

Emma released Jean and both Alec and
Sandy hugged her too, sharing words of encouragement. When Jean and Sandy left
the room Emma let a tear slip from the corner of her eye and she wiped it away.

“You okay?” Alec asked, noticing the
tear.

“Yeah, I feel for her. It has to be a
lot to handle. I wish her husband was more supportive, but he’s throwing her
into a divorce on top of everything else.”

Alec walked with Emma to the door of his
classroom.

“I thought we weren’t going to get his
dad to agree to the testing,” Emma continued.

“I know. Me too,” Alec agreed. “But
thank goodness for Dave the King of Metaphors. I think his little speech really
helped to put things in perspective.”

Emma nodded.

“Any luck with Brayden’s dad, yet?” Alec
asked.

“No. He hasn’t called me back. Believe
me I’ve left plenty of messages. I’ll try again tomorrow.” She sighed. “I’m
really not in the mood to be ignored today.”

“Alright,” he said. “Let me know. Maybe
we could get The Wolf to make the call. That might get the guy’s attention.”

“I don’t think even a call from the
principal would be a big enough gesture to get his attention,” Emma said and
with that, she headed down the hall to her own classroom where she put Donald’s
file back in her long desk drawer. She pulled her coat on, zipped it and
grabbed her umbrella before leaving. The sun drooped in the sky and Emma wanted
to make sure she got home before dark. The long umbrella with its pointed tip gave
her a small comfort as she headed for the door.

*     *     *

This is insanity
,
Emma thought as she sat at her desk and dialed Mr. Lewis’s phone number. Why
did she continue to call this man’s office when she knew he wouldn’t take her
calls? Did she really think Mr. Lewis would suddenly decide to talk to her? By
some miracle, would he be the one to answer the phone?

“Lewis and Sons Law Firm, how may I
direct your call?” the familiar even toned voice of the secretary answered.

“May I speak to Mr. Marcus Lewis,
please?” Emma asked, feeling like a broken record.

“One moment. May I ask who is calling?”

“Ms. Hewitt, Brayden’s teacher.” There
was a click on the other end and then a short pause.

“I’m sorry, he is unavailable. Can I
take a message?”

Emma took a moment, trying to think of a
different way to approach this situation.

“Ms. Hewitt, are you still there?”

“Yes, I am and please call me Emma.
We’ve talked on the phone often enough you should know my first name. And what
is your name?”

“I’m Gretta. Gretta Stewart.”

“Hi, Gretta. I appreciate all the
messages you’ve taken for me and I know that Mr. Lewis gets them. So, thank
you. I was just wondering why Mr. Lewis refuses to take my calls.”

Emma could sense the woman’s hesitation,
“He is a very busy man. I’m sure you understand that.”

“Yes, of course, I do, but is he really
too busy to be concerned about his son’s education?”

“Well, now dear, that really isn’t for
me to say,” Gretta responded.

“No, of course not. I apologize, I just
really need to get a meeting scheduled with him to talk about Brayden and I’m
frustrated that he stonewalls me every time.”

The prim secretary said nothing.

“Can you think of any other way for me
to reach Mr. Lewis, Gretta?”

“Well, like I said before he is a very
busy man, but his schedule looks free in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Emma said, thinking that if she
called back in twenty minutes he still wouldn’t take her call.

She was about to say as much when Mr.
Lewis’s clever secretary asked, “Shall I put you on his schedule?”

Of course, why hadn’t Emma thought of
that? “Twenty minutes,” she repeated and checked her watch. “I’ll be there.”

“And do you know where our office is
located?” Gretta asked all professional like Emma was a true client.

“I do,” Emma said.

“You’re on the schedule,” Gretta said.
“He’ll be here.”

“Thank you Gretta,” Emma said into the
phone.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Gretta replied and
Emma was afraid she heard a twinge of regret in the words. She hoped Gretta
wasn’t doing anything to jeopardize her job, the woman was only being
compassionate and trying to help Mr. Lewis’s son.

Emma scrambled to grab her coat and bag.
She left the classroom tables unwashed and nothing prepared for tomorrow.
Normally, she would never leave under such circumstances, but this was not a
usual circumstance.

She would hear it from the custodian
tomorrow about her garbage cans not being placed in the hallway for pick up or
her chairs not being stacked so he could sweep, but she didn’t care about that
right now. She had to jump at the opportunity Gretta presented her.

Emma ran to the nearest train stop and
checked her watch as she purchased a ticket. She punched the buttons quickly,
taking no time to congratulate herself on becoming an accomplished inner city
traveler. When the light rail train stopped in front of her, the doors opened
and she jumped aboard grabbing the first strap she saw—too anxious to sit down.
Emma was the first one off when the train arrived downtown. She ran into the
building. An elevator stood with its doors wide open and she dashed for it,
throwing her arm between the door panels when they started to close. She
squeezed herself into the small pocket of space at the front and the elevator
began its ascent.

Her palms were sweating, her stomach light
and nervous full of quivering butterflies. She wished she had more time to prepare.
She wished she knew what she was going to say. A few phrases began to run
through her mind when the elevator doors opened on the eighteenth floor.
Stepping out, she turned toward the law office doors and pulled them open.

Behind a tall granite counter stood a
petite woman watering a houseplant, with silver bobbed hair and a pair of
reading glasses dangling from a silver chain around her neck. The woman smiled
and set the watering can down.

“Ms. Hewitt?” she asked, almost
whispering and Emma nodded.

“Gretta?” The woman also nodded and Emma
extended her hand. “So nice to finally meet you.”

“You too, dear,” she said, taking her
hand. She held up a finger, letting Emma know she needed a moment. Gretta
pushed an intercom button on her phone and Mr. Lewis’s voice came across from
the other side.

“Yes, Gretta?”

“Your three-thirty is here.”

“My…what…oh,”

“Shall I send her in?” she asked before
Mr. Lewis could collect his thoughts.

“Yes,” he said still sounding confused and
maybe a little disgruntled.

Gretta let off the button and came
around the counter.

“This way.” She motioned down the hall
and stopped short in front of a tall solid oak door. “Good luck,” she
whispered. Emma reached for the doorknob.

*     *     *

The three-thirty block on Marcus’s
Outlook calendar was blocked out, but there was no name or notes about the
purpose of the meeting. This was unusual. What was going on with him? When did
he start forgetting appointments? He was sure his afternoon was supposed to be free,
so he could finish reviewing the stack of invoices in front of him.

He needed to start getting more sleep.
The nights with Brayden were rough. Over the last five weeks, Marcus had
averaged three hours of sleep at night. Between the work he brought home and
the hours he spent awake, listening to Brayden cry out next to him through his
nightmares or awakening to bruise-inflicting kicks, he was beyond tired.

His office door opened and Ms. Hewitt
walked inside. Taken by surprise Marcus stared at her, trying to remember when
he scheduled a meeting with her. While his mind searched for the answer, he
realized she was waiting to be acknowledged. He stood and motioned for her to
sit in one of the leather chairs across the desk from him.

“Ms. Hewitt, I’m sorry, I don’t remember
scheduling this meeting with you,” he said as they both sat down.