A Conard County Homecoming. Rachel Lee

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       Chapter Two

      Ashley went to school in the morning with nearly a bushel basket full of apples for her students. She’d swiped some for the pie yesterday, but the basket was still brimming. A great time of year for apples, and she’d made a tradition of ordering a bushel each fall for her students.

      They all loved apples, and while she limited them to one a day, they still disappeared fast. With a class size of nineteen, four to five days would nearly empty the basket. When they got down to the last few, a spelling bee would determine who got the last of them.

      Her students usually loved the treat, and she felt good about being able to give it to them. Special orders were no problem at the grocery, and she’d been doing it for so many years that the produce manager always had a list of prices and quality for her. This year he’d recommended the Jonathans, a type of apple she loved herself.

      The students began arriving, and when they saw the apples, excitement began to grow. They’d heard of her tradition. “Not until after lunch,” she reminded them.

      Then Mikey’s mother rolled him in and pushed him up to the table the school had provided specially so he could get his wheelchair under it comfortably. It was also wider than usual so his mother could sit beside him throughout the day and help with his assignments. She turned the pages in the books for him to read, and when worksheets had to be filled out, she asked him which answers he chose.

      Today Mikey appeared to be in a fairly good mood. Ashley had the greatest admiration for his mother, Marian Landau, whose patience never seemed to flag. It couldn’t be easy for her to drive him in every day and then sit beside him throughout the school day. She could have chosen homeschooling, but she had told Ashley that she wanted him to have social interactions.

      “They might not all be good ones,” Marian had said. “I know how cruel kids can be. But I also know how nice they can be, and I don’t want him raised in isolation. Sooner or later he’ll have to deal with the rest of the world.”

      So far this year, not a single student had been cruel to Mikey. Some hung back, as if uncomfortable, but a few routinely made an effort to speak to him, or to ask him to join their groups when they split into them.

      A fund-raiser was being planned to get Mikey a better wheelchair, an electric one he’d be able to control with puffs on a straw. Dang, those things were expensive, Ashley thought as she called her excited and slightly rowdy group to order. But then so were service dogs, and Cadell Marcus was already trying to solve that problem. She spent a moment’s hope that Zane would actually call Cadell and offer some advice.

      “Okay,” she said when everyone was settled and looking at her, “there’s an apple rule. The rule is simple. If we get all of our morning’s work done before lunch, everyone gets an apple. If you guys cut up and waste time...uh-oh.”

      Giggles ran through the room. She smiled and plunged into the morning’s math lesson. The introduction to fractions always caused some confusion, but today she had apples and a small paring knife to help her. Given the times, she’d had to get permission to bring that knife, small as it was. She couldn’t help remembering her own childhood, when every boy had carried a pocketknife. No more. The zero-tolerance policy that had begun sweeping the nation a couple of decades ago had finally reached this little town. Considering how many of her students lived on ranches, at home they very likely carried their pocketknives and used much more dangerous implements.

      An awful lot of her students, girls and boys alike, would be going hunting this fall with their parents. In fact, one of her lessons at this time of year was about hunting safety and laws. Sometimes she was able to get the game warden, Desi Jenks, to come in and give a talk.

      But fractions required her whole attention, even with slicing an apple into halves, quarters and thirds. It was difficult for kids, for some reason, to see it for real and then transfer it to symbols on paper. That always took a while.

      Eventually she had the pleasure of seeing understanding begin to dawn.

      By the end of the day, however, despite recesses to let them run off energy, her kids were getting antsy. Their response to weariness was not to fall asleep, but to need something new to do. When she dismissed them, they tore out of the room like a stampeding herd.

      But Mikey and his mom remained. They always did, to avoid the crush. Ashley pulled her chair over to chat with them a bit.

      “How’s it going, Mikey?” she asked. “Do you hate fractions, too?”

      He smiled shyly. “They’re easy.”

      “Well, glory be,” Ashley said, clapping her hands together. “Someone gets it.”

      Mikey laughed.

      Marian spoke. “Cadell is trying to get us a service dog. I think I mentioned that. Well, he’s trying to train one for us.”

      “I can hardly wait,” Mikey piped up.

      “But...” Marian hesitated. “The dog can come to school with him?”

      “Of course. Just let me know before you bring him so I can lay the ground rules.” She looked at Mikey. “You are going to make so many kids jealous, being able to bring your dog to school.”

      As soon as she said it, she wished she could take the words back. She was sure Marian didn’t find anything about Mikey’s situation enviable. She was relieved that Mikey didn’t take it wrong. He laughed. “Yup. I’m special.”

      “You sure are.” Ashley looked at Marian and saw the shadows in the woman’s eyes, the unguarded moment when her entire face sagged. Their eyes met, understanding passed, then Marian put on her cheerful face again.

      “Time to go, Mikey.”

      Ashley walked them to the front door and waved them goodbye before returning to her classroom to gather up her own items. Lesson planner, papers to grade and some books she used for planning.

      A teacher’s day was never done, but she didn’t mind it in the least. Nothing could compare with watching a child conquer a difficult subject or idea. Nothing could compare with the child’s moment of triumph when understanding dawned.

      The fractions, however, were going to take a little longer. She laughed to herself and headed out with her jacket and backpack.

      As she was leaving, she ran into the seriously pregnant Julie Archer, the kindergarten teacher. “Coffee this weekend?” Julie asked. “Connie and Marisa have already said yes.”

      “You sure we won’t be meeting in the waiting room at the hospital?”

      “I wish!” Julie smiled. “Nobody told me the last month would be the longest. Nobody.”

      “Why scare you?” Ashley asked. “Besides, since I’ve never been pregnant, I couldn’t possibly have told you.”

      “The other girls could have,” Julie retorted. “Lucky Marisa, she was early. So, Saturday. Around two?”

      “Unless something comes up, absolutely.”