Snowbound

“But it’ll be cool to see everybody,” Tabitha argued.

“And we’ve already missed two days. I wouldn’t want

to get farther behind in my classes.”

“We won’t in Ms. Mac’s!” several voices caroled.

“Do you suppose they had a substitute teaching your

classes?” Kelli asked.

“Friday, sure, but there might not have been any school

today. Remember, it snowed heavily down there, too.”

“Yeah!” Dieter cheered. “We can go home and

build snowmen!”

“You are such a little kid,” Amy told him dismissively.

In the rearview mirror, Fiona saw him laugh, but she

thought Amy’s put-down had stung. She wasn’t the

only one to think so, because Willow smiled at him and

said, “I like to build snowmen, too.”

He grinned at her. “Hey, cool. Where do you live?”

Fiona tuned them out again. She felt amazingly ill-

prepared to teach classes tomorrow. It was going to

take some thought to remember where she’d left off last

week. She’d have to grocery shop before she went

home, or there’d be no breakfast tomorrow. And, oh

goody, laundry tonight, too, since she’d meant to do it

Saturday. As if she hadn’t done nine hundred loads of

laundry this weekend, trying to keep up with the towels

and wet clothes for ten people. Of course, her housework had been waiting for the weekend, too, but it could wait again until next Saturday.

Real life was such fun.

The kids got out their cell phones and called

parents and friends. Fiona waited until she stopped

for gas and for everyone to get a chance to use a rest

room and get drinks. Then she phoned Dave Schneider, estimating how long it would take them to arrive back at the school and promising to call when they

got closer.

They pulled into the parking lot by the gymnasium

at Willamette Prep just before dark. Cars clustered by

the building. Fiona was surprised to see how much snow

still lay on the ground, although the roads and parking

lots were now bare except for occasional thin sheets of

ice. Her neck and shoulders ached, and she was grateful

to pull into a slot, set the emergency brake and turn off

the engine.

The principal, middle-aged and balding, broke away

from the group of parents and came around to Fiona’s

side of the van as the kids flung open the side sliding

door and bounded out. He looked so relieved to see her,

she realized how much pressure he’d been under as the

responsible school official here.

As they talked, Fiona was vaguely aware of excited

voices and parents embracing their offspring. The only

ones whose parents hadn’t come were Troy and Erin,

who had both left their own cars in the lot. She’d noticed

them—with snow still piled atop roofs, hoods and

trunks—as she’d pulled in. Her own in the faculty

parking lot would look the same. Scraping the windshield was just what she felt like doing.

Fiona handed over the keys to the principal, who

nodded toward the group of students and parents. “Doesn’t

sound like any of you suffered too much at this lodge.”

“No, I think the kids actually had a really good time.

We were lucky,” she admitted. “If we hadn’t been able

to reach the lodge…” An involuntary shudder ran

through her.

“It was a bad decision on both our parts,” he said

frankly. “I’m as responsible as you are. I looked at a

map, too. It seemed logical.”

“What I didn’t see on the map is that the pass closes

for the winter.”

He grimaced. “I did notice. But it’s only November.

I never dreamed…”

“Apparently it often closes in late November.”

He shook his head. “Next time conditions look worrisome, I’ll authorize you to put up in a hotel instead of trying to make it home.”

She gave a weak laugh. “Thank you.”

“Do you need some time off? I can get a sub for

tomorrow.”

The idea was tempting, but she shook her head.

“We can’t expect the kids to show up tomorrow morning if I don’t.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded.

“Ms. MacPherson?” Dieter’s mom had come around