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One
Laurel
“Miss Brook? There’s been an accident with your daughter, Calla.”
My heart stopped working. Questions bubbled straight to the surface of my mind, threatening to spill over and hiss with panic.
“She’s fine,” the director rushed to add. “But she tripped and hit her head on the corner of the table. We think she might need stitches.”
I blew out a breath of relief. I should have been horrified by that, but a gash to the head? We could work with that. I stood from my desk in the elementary school resource room, grabbing my coat and keys as I talked. “Is she still bleeding, or did it slow down after you put pressure on it?”
“Uh, eh,” the director fumbled, obviously expecting more hysterics from my end. “It’s slowed down a bit, but if we take away the compress, it’s still a… a lot.” She sounded breathless. Probably squeamish at the sight of blood.
If she’d had Calla in her care for more than a week, then she’d have developed a stronger stomach. But we had only moved to Montpelier a couple weeks before, and Calla was a new liability for the daycare center. It wouldn’t be the last time my accident-prone child bled all over their floors. Calla was a danger magnet.
“I’ll be right there,” I promised. I shrugged my coat over my shoulders, put my keys between my teeth, and loaded my binders and planner into the beat-up, army green backpack I had owned since the beginning of time. It had been my camp bag, my school bag, my college bag, and Calla’s diaper bag. The thing was immortal.
But Calla was not, and once again, I was going to have to do some financial gymnastics to pay for her latest scrape. As I zipped up the bag, I prayed it wasn’t as bad as they thought. I prayed the super glue I kept in our fridge at home would be good enough. The thought of fighting with the hospital over self-pay, poring over an itemized bill, and arguing with them about gratuitous charges, made the small headache behind my eyes worse, and I swallowed hard against a dry throat. Was my throat dry or sore? God, that had better be too much diet cola and not enough water—if I was sick, I would scream.
The resource room teacher, Mrs. Lark, looked up from her session with a small group of second-graders. They were seated behind a partition wall at a low table with reading books spread out around them. She paused, mid-flashcard lift. “Something wrong, Miss Brook?”
Mrs. Lark was a funny bird. She had the build of an army sergeant, and short, nondescript brown hair cut with severe bangs. Her general demeanor had all the comfort of a shin to a trailer hitch. She was also kind of my boss.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, fast-walking sideways out of the resource room. “Calla fell and hit her head, and I think I need to take her to the… actually,” I stopped, frowning. “Is there an urgent care, here?”
“Just the ER,” Mrs. Lark said, blinking hard from behind her thin glasses.
Shit, I groaned internally. “Okay. I might need to take her to the ER. Bear River Memorial, right?”
“It’s the only one,” she said, like I was stupid.
I resisted the urge to give her finger guns. “Right, small town. I’m so sorry to duck out without finding a sub.” I wasn’t sorry. It was half past two and I only had one group of students left for the day, and since I was just a paraprofessional support in the resource room, my job was small potatoes for a seasoned professional like Mrs. Lark. Whose first name I still did not know.
“It’s perfectly understandable,” Mrs. Lark said, and then slammed her hand on the page a sandy-haired boy had begun to rip out of the book. The boy yelped, and his classmates guffawed.
I shifted the strap of my backpack, feeling antsy. “Okay, well, I should be back tomorrow, but I’ll let you know if something happens.”
“If she fell,” Mrs. Lark said, her tone level and practical, “then she should be in the best of hands. The doctors in the emergency department are well-known to our community.” Then she got a funny kind of twinkle in her eye that I had not seen before. It softened her bird-like features, and her mouth twitched with some amusement. “Dr. Cade is a particular favorite.”
Intriguing,I thought as I edged closer to the door.Does he juggle while he stitches up his patients? Maybe he gives out extra stickers.
“Well, let’s hope we get Dr. Cade,” I said with a weak smile. This small town had already made me keenly aware that secrets did not stay tucked away for long, and opinions remained carved in people’s minds longer than gravestone engravings. If I made a bad impression on a doctor everyone liked, then I’d probably be toast, socially. Not that I had much time for a social life, anyway, but if I could avoid being a social pariah, that would be choice.
I rushed out of the room and down the hallway, hurrying past walls decorated with fluttering kids’ artwork and inspirational, rainbow-littered posters. I knew this was going to happen. I had just started this job last Monday, and already, I had to make excuses for myself. Usually, people understood when I had to leave early or call-in sick—the poor, single mom.
I hated it, though. I hated that the only card I had to play anymore was the pity card.
You’re kind of broken.
I shook my head, pushing the voice to the far edges of my brain. I replaced it with the mantra I had printed out and stuck in my binder and had plastered on the desktop of my computer at home.I am worthy of a peaceful life. My inner voice snorted at myself. It never worked, but I kept trying it, anyway. If I didn’t, the other voice would get too loud, and then I’d be entering dangerous territory.
I made it to my shiny, red SUV, clicked the key fob and hopped inside. The comforting smell of leather and french fries wrapped around me. The car was the only nice thing I still owned—or used. It wasn’t mine, technically, but I paid for it every month.
I peeled out of the parking lot and thumbed through my GPS map while I drove, making sure I knew where the hospital was. It’s not like it would have been hard to find. The town was so small, I’d have to be legally blind to not find it. But I liked to be prepared. I liked the control of knowing what my next three steps were, so I listed them in my head.
) Pick up Calla and make sure the staff know I’m not going to sue them for my accident-prone child doing what she does best.
)Do notkeep talking when you get there. Just shut up and get out.
