A Child's Wish

She’d promised herself long ago that she wasn’t going to intrude at will. She’d take things as they were given to her. Period. She wasn’t even sure she had the ability to do that anymore.

The woman’s shoulders dropped and all sparkle left her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I was so sure you were my answer.”

Your answer is no, Meredith wanted to say. Dishonesty, trickery, is seldom the best choice.

“I wish I could help.”

Bonnie stood. “Well, thanks anyway.”

Meredith nodded from her seat, too weary to get up and walk Eric’s mother to the door. She was just as exhausted half an hour later when she arrived home to find twelve messages on her machine from people she’d never heard of, all with similar requests. Oh, not about babies, but with pleas to help them with some decision—job, marriage, children—as if she were their last resort.

Twelve messages, because that was all her machine would take.

Meredith didn’t feel like a teacher at that moment. Or a daughter. Or a friend. She felt like a freak.

ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Mark wandered down to Meredith’s classroom—timing his visit to coincide with her planning period. He stood unnoticed in the doorway for a full minute, watching as she stapled colorful artwork of varying degrees of proficiency onto the bulletin board. The assignment must have been spring—he guessed by the colors—and he could tell one thing for sure. At Lincoln Elementary, students had a vast array of opinions, vivid imaginations

and different ways of expressing themselves.

Not bad.

Nor were Meredith’s legs. Long, slender. Exposed by the short denim skirt she was wearing with a long-sleeved yellow blouse that was a perfect backdrop for the cascade of red-gold hair she’d left loose.

“Oh, Mr. Shepherd. I didn’t see you there.” She came down off her toes and turned, smoothing her skirt.

And Mark gave his libido a mental shake. He was alive, human, he was going to notice women. Had been doing so quite regularly since puberty.

Just not this woman.

“I should’ve said something.” Not that. It indicated that he’d been there long enough to have spoken up.

“I was just hanging these,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes as she pointed to the papers lining the wall. “Is there a problem?”

He hated the hunted look in her eyes—even knowing that she had, at least in part, brought it on herself. “Not really,” he replied, still standing in the doorway. “I wanted to let you know that while we’ve received a few calls as a result of the news show two days ago, they’ve almost all been calls of support.”

“Thank you.” There was little sign of emotion on her face, as if she’d closed herself off from him. Was she that way with everyone? He tried to picture her with Kelsey or Susan.

“How about you? Did you get any response?” he asked.

“Some,” she said, folding her arms in front of her. “People here commented, but I think more because they’d seen me on TV than because of anything I said.”

“You’ve worked here a long time. They know you—and respect you.”

As he did. But as her boss, he was in a more precarious position. He couldn’t let her go around breaking rules, upsetting parents, regardless of her motivation.

“So all else was quiet?”

“Pretty much.”

Not entirely. He wondered what that meant. Wanted to push, but knew her well enough to be certain that it wouldn’t do any good.

“I, uh, also…” He stepped into the room completely and shut the door behind him. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay with the plans for this weekend. It’s not too late to change them, if you decide you don’t want Kelsey spending the night.” She stood in the front of the bulletin board, looking beautiful—and somewhat defenseless surrounded by the artwork of eight-year-olds. “If something’s come up that you’d rather do…”

Policy allowed them to socialize outside school, as long as they didn’t date. But that didn’t mean he should take her time for granted.

“There’s nothing I can think of that I’d rather do than spend tonight with Kelsey,” she told him, her voice strong and clear.

Mark rocked back on his heels, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, trying not to feel quite so pleased and…relieved…at her response.