Chapter Two Alexandra
As I paced back and forth in front the overly decorated bulletin board, I fought to catch my breath. In the distance, I heard the happy shrieks and shouts of children along with the anxious voices of their parents.
Today was the Meet and Greet at my school.
The day I met the new group of students I would spend the next nine months with.
You’d think from my nervousness this was my first year.
But no, this wasn’t my first time at the rodeo.
Today marked year five for me. My first year I was practically a baby myself at twenty-two.
I’m not sure how my principal had complete confidence that I could handle a class full of five and six year olds.
Somehow she’d been right.
Despite my years experience, the Meet and Greet was always nerve-wracking for me. While I was completely at ease in front of five and six year olds, the introverted side of me shriveled up at the thought of making small talk with all the parents.
As if he could sense my apprehension, my therapy dog, Atticus, nudged my leg. I stared down into his warm brown eyes. “I know, I know. I’ve got this.”
At his happy yip of reinforcement, I reached out to scratch his dark head.
While I personally didn’t require a therapy dog, I had jumped at the chance to have Atticus become one when the school put out feelers about starting a therapy program.
Although he was already two years old, he was still a great candidate as a black lab since they were easy to train.
For the last three years, he’d been accompanying me to school everyday and giving love not only to my students, but throughout the school.
After adjusting the multi-colored ABC’s bandana around his neck, I hurried over to the closet to check my reflection one last time. I did the usual fluff of my dark hair while checking to make sure I didn’t have anything in my teeth from breakfast.
Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I gazed around the classroom to make sure everything was perfect.
From the time I was a little girl and played school with my dolls and stuffed animals, I had wanted to be a teacher.
I couldn’t grasp the idea of being anywhere else but in the classroom.
I’d happily followed in my late parents’ footsteps into education.
While my father had been a high school math teacher, my mother had also taught kindergarten.
They spent their life molding young minds, and I felt my career choice also honored their memory.
I grew up in a fairy tale where bad things always seemed to happen to other people. My younger brother, Charlie, and I were insulated in a protective bubble of love and adoration. Our family was the one others envied and aspired to be.
And then one rainy February evening when I was seventeen and Charlie was twelve, our beautiful world shattered. On the way home from soccer practice, my parents were killed in a car accident. Although he was trapped in the mangled wreckage for hours, Charlie miraculously survived.
The day I buried my parents I buried myself as well. Or at least the person I was. I’d scraped and clawed my way back up from absolute rock bottom.
I did it for Charlie.
And for my parents.
You didn’t have to look hard to see reminders of them in my classroom. The old play kitchen set had been my mother’s along with the rocking chair I sat in for rug time. Their faces smiled out from ornate frames on the shelf behind my desk.
The familiar ache of grief twisted in my chest. Even as the years passed, I didn’t think it would ever completely go away. The only way I saw myself getting out of the crippling loneliness and ache for my family was to have one of my own.
At twenty-seven, I certainly wasn’t past my prime for getting married. There’d been two long-term relationships since losing my parents. But in the end, they weren’t the one.
And each year that passed, the ache grew not only to have someone to share my life with, but also for children. Somedays I even debated becoming a foster mom or a single mom by choice. I had so much love to give a child.
For now, I directed all that love on my students. Especially the ones who came from homes that didn’t always give them the love and attention they needed.
As the children’s voices grew closer, I glanced up the ceiling. With a smile, I murmured, “Hey you two, could you send a little strength my way.”
My attention quickly shifted to the doorway where a dark haired little boy with a mischievous grin bounded into the room. “Hi, my name’s Carter.”
Putting on my most welcoming smile, I started across the room to him. “Hi Carter, I’m Ms. Evans. Are you ready to have the best year in kindergarten?”
And with those simple words, all my nervousness faded, and the Meet and Greet officially began.
The next hour passed in a blur. When I waved goodbye to my last student and their parents, I couldn’t believe how fast the time had passed. Not only did my cheeks ache from smiling so much, but my feet were screaming in agony.
After limping back to my desk, I collapsed down into my chair. Slipping off my heels, I gave them the stink-eye as they dropped to the ground. “Fucking torture devices,” I grumbled.
Normally, I didn’t wear heels. My school’s dress code was pretty lax.
Most days, I wore comfortable clothes and shoes.
It was the one area of teaching I differed with my mother.
She never left the house without styling a dress and wearing a pair of heels.
To her, dressing down was sporting one of those apple vests from back in the day.
After throwing my head back in ecstasy at the way the foot massage felt, I popped open my eyes to see a dark-haired little girl standing beside my desk. I’d jumped out of my skin and almost fell out of my chair.
A warm embarrassment rushed to my cheeks that she had seen me being so goofy. Trying to play it off, I wiped my hands on my dress and held out my hand. “Well, hello. My name is Miss Evans, and I really like foot rubs and hate wearing high heels. What’s your name?”
The little girl didn’t respond. Instead, she just kept staring at me. There was recognition in her eyes that didn’t make sense considering I hadn’t seen her before.
“I didn’t meet you earlier. Are you in another class this year? You’re going to have so much fun in kindergarten.”
I still didn’t get a response from her. I began to wonder if perhaps she was on the autism spectrum and non-verbal. Then a panicked woman’s voice echoed through the empty hall. “Willow? Willow, where are you?”
Taking a guess that the little girl was the missing Willow, I quickly called, “She’s in here.”
Within seconds, an attractive older woman with salt and pepper hair came rushing in the room. “There you are! You had me worried to death!” she cried.
Willow only momentarily acknowledged her before turning back to me. She edged around the desk and came to stand beside me. Although I was used to students being overly affectionate, I still couldn’t help my mouth falling open when she casually climbed into my lap.
One of her hands came up to touch the strands of my hair. Gazing down at her, I smiled. To my surprise, she smiled back at me.
When I glanced at the woman, who appeared to be her grandmother, there were tears shimmering in her eyes. “I…I’m sorry. I just haven’t seen her react to anyone outside her family.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry she gave you a scare. We were just getting to know each other.”
The woman nodded. “I had car trouble, so we were late for the Meet and Greet. I was across the hall talking to her teacher, and when I turned around, she was gone.”
I held out the hand that wasn’t stroking Willow’s head. “I’m Alexandra Evans.”
“Elizabeth Malloy. I’m Willow’s grandmother.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
Holding out her hand, ElizaLiz said, “Come on, Willow. Mrs. Gregson is excited to meet you.”
Willow burrowed deeper in my lap, giving me the impression she was going to be with me for a while. For the first time, I noticed she was clutching something in her hand.
“What’s this?” I asked, pointing to what appeared to be a tiny doll.
Slowly, Willow opened her hand, and I saw that it was actually a small Christmas angel. “Oh, what a pretty doll.”
My compliment brought a smile to Willow’s face. “You… look like her.” She swallowed hard before whispering, “You look like Angel Mommy.”
“Why, thank you.” Peering down at the doll, I tried imagining the similarities. We both had long, dark hair, and we were both wearing a white dress. With a smile, I said, “You’re right. I do look like her.”
A strangled cry came from Elizabeth. When I glanced up, she was clutching her throat. “She hasn’t spoken in two months, not to me, not to her father. Not to anyone since her mother was...” She glanced at Willow and nervously shifted on her feet. “Since her mother passed away.”
I blinked my eyes in disbelief as a flood of painful memories flickered through my mind.
Charlie’s face appeared before me. At twelve the shock of losing our parents, along with being trapped in the car for hours, had rendered him catatonic for six months.
Even after we moved in with my aunt and uncle—the two most wonderful, loving people in the world—Charlie didn’t recover.
For months, he remained locked in a world of his own isolation. And then one day, he slowly started to come around. Considering him now, it was hard to imagine he’d ever gone without speaking. At twenty, he was at the University of Georgia and partying more than he should.
As I looked into Willow’s face, I couldn’t help thinking of Charlie.
If he hadn’t been surrounded by loving, caring people, I don’t know what would have happened to him.
Although it was strange and I didn’t understand it, Willow had bonded with me.
Since she had already been through too much, I hated to break the bond.