Chapter 5 #2
Stella hauled a messy stack of construction paper out and put it on a desk. “He’s a quiet guy. Keeps to himself.”
“Unlike his parents,” Ashley said. “They were everywhere. Always volunteering, and they were at every town event. Such a lovely family.”
I busied myself sorting folders into bins by color, ignoring the talk of Josh. So far, he’d been kind of a jerk. But as long as he was a decent landlord and left us alone, I could tolerate it. My goal was to be pleasantly distant, so there was no sense in learning more about him.
“He was a heartbreaker in high school.” Stella sighed. “He graduated with my older sister Ruby. Literally every girl in town had a crush on him.”
“I can see that,” Ashley said. “He seems like the type that came out of the womb a full lumberjack—beard, axe, and all.”
As they giggled, I headed for the other side of the room to move bookcases. That would give me something to do and also keep my face hidden.
“I’m married,” Callie said. “But I get the appeal. He’s all rugged protector on the outside and sweet softie underneath.”
My cheeks heated immediately. Dammit. I was so damn weak.
“How do you know he’s a softie?” Ashley asked.
“Because when I called him and asked if he’d rent his cottage to Celine, he agreed immediately. Reduced the rent to below market rate and everything. He was more than happy to help out. He may put on a grumpy front, but he’s always the first to offer help and he does a lot for the town.”
I stood with my back to them, listening, regardless of how badly I wanted to ignore the topic of my landlord. Farmer Josh was a bit of a softie? That was news to me. So far, he seemed to spend most of his time judging me.
The arrangement was already a bit uncomfortable, but now that I knew he’d offered me a deal on rent, that was magnified.
After Callie offered me the job in July, I’d immediately started looking for housing, but most of the rentals in the area were cute apartments in town, and with three growing kids and Julian’s hatred of noise, I wasn’t sure any of them were right for us.
With this new information, guilt washed over me. Josh could make a lot more if he rented to anyone else. The cottage was gorgeous. And far nicer than what we were used to. The oven that Julian had nearly destroyed with his Lego birthday cake alone probably cost more than my minivan.
I squeezed my eyes shut and sighed. Dammit. I was softening to him already, and the last thing I needed was to let my guard down. As I pinched the bridge of my nose, I reminded myself to stick to my plan of polite distance and friendly indifference.
Needing a moment to reset, I took the box of muffins to the cafeteria to share with the kids. The three of them were happily coloring while Ellie played Julian’s favorite songs from the tiny portable speaker Chloe had given her for her birthday. God, I had the best damn kids.
We worked for another hour, running back and forth to the supply closet, leaving items I wouldn’t need and bringing others I would back to the classroom. Callie drifted off to attend a meeting, and not long after, Ashley headed to her own room to finalize some things.
The two of us had been silent for a while when Stella spoke again.
“I’m very excited to meet Julian,” she said, wearing a genuine smile.
My heart stuttered. Often it was hard to draw the line between teacher and mom. And given Julian’s history with educators, I usually had to brace myself for these conversations.
“We’ll have the official IEP meeting soon, obviously. But I’ve read through his files already, and I’m working on plans to make sure he has a successful year.”
The tightness in my chest loosened a little.
Stella kept shelving the books, seemingly unaware of how intensely this conversation was hitting me. “We have a quiet corner and alternative seating, and I keep a visual schedule and allow for frequent movement breaks.”
I swallowed thickly, my eyes heating. “That’s great.”
“The file said he stims. That’s not a problem. I won’t prevent him from doing what he needs to feel comfortable.”
Julian’s stimming had been a major issue in the past. Not only at the preschool he’d been kicked out of, but at home. My ex-husband thought it was weird and hated that it drew attention to Julian’s differences.
At the therapeutic school he’d attended last year, his stimming had tapered off, mostly because he was surrounded by qualified professionals and other neurodiverse kids, which allowed for a comfortable environment where his nervous system could relax.
But even with all the progress he’d made, I was still terrified of how he’d be treated in a public school.
“He’s safe in my classroom,” Stella said.
An overwhelming desire to hug her washed over me, but I couldn’t move, my feet glued to the spot.
“And,” she added in a conspiratorial tone, “I have a drawer full of Lego sets I use for choice time. I’m counting on him to be my engineering expert.”
“Thank you,” I said. “There’s a lot to figure out—”
She held up a hand. “Figuring it out is my favorite part. We’re coworkers, but we’re also partners in the journey to making sure he’s happy and thriving.”
With my lips pressed together, I nodded. Then I turned my back so she wouldn’t see the way my eyes filled with tears.
Not long after, we finished up, and I took a moment to admire the progress. The cubbies and desks were labeled, the daily calendar station was set up, and our little library was bursting with books and beanbag chairs.
I was doing this. For so long, I’d dreamed of the day I’d have my own classroom in a lovely small-town school, where I could watch my kids grow while doing what I loved with my whole heart.
As I gathered the kids and headed for the car, the reality of the kindness I’d experienced today sank in. No, not just today, but since we’d arrived. This town was strange. Loud and maybe too nosy.
But maybe it was exactly what we needed.