Chapter 5
Shay
Students will be able to make stones speak.
“So, based on what we’ve read, what would you say is the most important detail?”
Gennie dragged her tongue back and forth along her teeth as she studied the book between us. “Blackbeard was a badass,” she said.
I gave her a quick nod. “Can you think of another way to say that? A school-friendly way?”
She thought about this for a minute. “Blackbeard was really good at being a ship captain and making pirate plans.”
“Okay. Are there any details from the text to show this?” I handed her a stack of sticky notes. “Use these to mark the spots where you find evidence.”
Last week, I’d made the mistake of arriving to our “playdate” with some early elementary storybooks. Gennie had zero interest in the classics and anything with the merest whiff of school halted our progress. When I’d told her I taught kindergarten, the betrayal was plain on her face.
I’d returned to the Friendship Public Library in search of books that would appeal to her interests.
That I’d found a few titles on pirates and that they were even remotely appropriate for a six-year-old was amazing.
There were several mentions of beheadings but that didn’t deter Gennie.
If anything, it made her more excited to read.
I watched as she flipped through the book, carefully pressing sticky notes to the passages that proved her point.
Each passage required a different colored note, which was no problem since an office supply store had exploded in Noah’s kitchen in the past week.
Every time I visited, there were more goodies waiting on the table.
Markers, pens, crayons, and every sticky note under the sun.
It was obvious Noah wanted what was best for Gennie. Colored pencils weren’t going to make up for the gaps in her reading skills but they’d make the practice more fun. I gave him credit for that.
“There was a fox on the roof of the chicken house last night,” Gennie said as she ran her finger over a sticky note to secure it in place.
“A fox ,” I murmured. “You’ll have to tell me that story after we search for words that make the a sound, like in black .”
“Like Blackbeard,” she said.
“Exactly like that. Use these little sticky flags to point out those a sounds in the story.”
“Like cat ?” she asked. “Like my barn cats, Blackie and Brownie?”
“Yes, cat has the same a sound. See if there’s any others in the story.”
“What about bastard ? Is that the same?”
I lifted my water bottle to my lips to drown out a laugh. Once I’d recovered, I said, “Yes, you’re right, though let’s keep our words school-friendly.”
“School isn’t friendly,” she mumbled.
I leaned down to catch her eye but she looked away, suddenly interested in finding those words. “We’ll work on that,” I said. “It’s going to get better.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, the pout thick in her words.
“Actually, I do know it. When I was a kid, I moved and changed schools a bunch of times. It was really hard. It took me a long time to make friends and I was always the new kid. But it got better.”
She kept her gaze on the pages and it was clear I had to talk to Noah about this today.
She’d mentioned a few other troubling tidbits over the past week and I’d meant to share them with him but I hadn’t been able to get a minute of his time.
He wasn’t at home when I arrived, Gennie usually in the care of Gail Castro, an eternally patient woman whose family bred and trained horses nearby.
Gennie spent the day with Gail now that she wasn’t in summer school anymore.
Noah typically made an appearance about halfway through our playdates, strolling through the kitchen and then immediately disappearing into the adjoining den or back outside.
I’d wanted to speak to him on Monday, but Gennie had put up a relentless fight for me to join them for dinner, and I’d made a quick exit.
She invited me every time we worked together, but I couldn’t maintain a cheerful face for multiple concurrent hours. Not yet.
And I really didn’t want to have another conversation about Lollie’s land or fake marriages or anything else. I’d done a solid job of convincing myself that Noah hadn’t been serious—and I wasn’t seriously considering any of it.
So, it was better that we didn’t put ourselves in situations where we had to acknowledge that nonsense. I hadn’t even mentioned it to Jaime. That was the level of nonsense we were playing with.
“Why did you go to different schools?” Gennie asked, her voice small as she toyed with the flags.
I gathered the other books into a pile. “It was just me and my mom for a long time,” I started, “and her job moved us around a lot when I was your age. New York City; Washington, D.C.; London. Sometimes her job required her to go to other countries and I couldn’t go with her. Sometimes for months or even years.”
“My mom had to go away too,” she said.
“It’s not easy, is it? I know. It’s even harder when your mom is away and you have to start at a new school and live with new people. I know.”
“Did your mom come back?”
“She did,” I said gently. “But she always left again. Her job is all about going to places and seeing things as they happen, and talking to people about those things. She always had to leave again.”
“My mom isn’t coming back,” she said. “Noah takes me to visit her but she can’t come back.”
I didn’t know what was going on with Eva and it wasn’t my place to ask but my heart ached for Gennie. None of this sounded like a positive, happy situation for anyone.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s a difficult thing to experience. You’re very brave, Gennie.”
“Like Blackbeard?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“I don’t have a dad,” she went on.
“We all have a dad,” I said. “But we don’t always know that person. I don’t know my dad.”
She blinked up at me, her eyes shiny. “Really?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never met him. I don’t know his name. It was just me and my mom until she married someone when I was a teenager. He’s my stepdad now.”
She bobbed her head before sliding the book across the table. “Did I get all the a sounds?”
I paged through the book, pointing to each flagged word and asking her to read it for me. We were almost finished when Noah came through the door, a smudge of dirt high on his cheek and his ball cap dusty. He had a milk crate tucked under his arm, and set it on the counter before glancing at us.
“How are we doing?” he asked on his way to the sink.
“Noah! Did you know Blackbeard’s head was chopped off and put on a pole to warn people not to be pirates?”
He glanced to me, his eyes round. “I did not know that,” he said to Gennie. “Do you approve of that form of justice? Should we implement that around here? Is that how I should warn foxes away from the henhouse?”
“No,” she cried, coming up to kneel in her chair. “That’s a terrible idea! And it sounds totally disgusting!”
“Good point. Right. We won’t do that,” he said, coming around to glance at the books piled in front of me. “Tell me if there are books or anything else you need.”
“The library is good,” I said, shuffling my things into my bag. “Lots of variety. We can dive into different topics every time we hang out. Makes it that much more fun.”
Gennie roped her arms around my neck. “Can Shay come to dinner tonight? Please? She said her mom had to go away and she went to different schools and she doesn’t have a dad. She’s just like me.”
I gave her back a light pat and shifted away. I was about to scoop up the books and make my exit when Noah said, “You’re welcome to join us if that works with your schedule. We wouldn’t want to hold you up if you have plans though. Isn’t that right, Gennie?”
Gennie gave a disinterested shrug, saying, “We’ll have more fun if you stay. And we can visit the dogs!”
I glanced at Noah, trying to get a read on his mood. As usual, it was hidden under his hat and behind his beard. When I hesitated, he added, “We’d love to have you but you’re not obligated.”
That frosted over not obligated was a world away from the silence I usually received. It was the Noah equivalent of a parade in my honor. “Okay, then. Can I help with anything?”
He turned away and started unpacking the milk crate. “No. It’s taken care of.” To Gennie, he asked, “What will you eat for a vegetable tonight?”
“Baby carrots,” she replied, busy doodling on the sticky notes.
“Baby carrots are not real carrots,” he said. “We’ve talked about this. I can cut carrots into small pieces but—”
“Baby carrots,” she said, “are real and I want them.”
“I cannot feed you baby carrots. They do not occur in nature. I can’t sell four different colors of carrot while putting processed carrot stumps on your plate.”
“ Baby carrots ,” she yelled.
He looked up from the crate, a loaf of bread in one hand. “I can give you carrots in small pieces. That’s the best I can do. That, or cucumbers.”
She set her head on the table, her little hands fisted to her ears. “Cucumbers,” she mumbled into the surface.
“Cucumbers it is,” he replied, crossing to the fridge.
I swiveled a gaze between Gennie and Noah for a moment. It seemed the great baby carrot debate was settled, at least for now. After a tense minute, I said, “Gennie, why don’t you pack up the supplies for today?”
“And then you can grab eggs from the henhouse,” Noah added.
She lifted her head, her dark, unruly hair curtaining her face. “Do I have to?”
“If you want to visit the dogs later, yes.”
“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered. She tossed the sticky notes and markers back in the plastic bin and carried it out of the room.
I caught Noah’s exasperated gaze and offered a quick grin. He rolled his eyes. “We go a few rounds on baby carrots at least once a week.”
“She has a passion. It’s important.”
“It’s driving me mad,” he said.
“Are you sure I can’t do anything?” I watched as Noah started slicing a loaf of bread. “I’ve heard those come presliced these days.”