Chapter 41
Cienna
Some people were confronted with grief daily when they saw things that reminded them of the people who were no longer with them.
The entire Aisling Day School was a reminder of my grandmother; she was everywhere I turned.
Each squeak of sneakers in the hallway, every warning bell sounding, and even the smell of freshly mopped hall floors early in the mornings before anyone arrived.
Her magic and memory were in every sound, smell, and turn of my day, but rather than being a hardship, it was a blessing. These things didn’t bury me in grief; rather, they reminded me that her spirit was with me. That she was never truly gone.
Every November eighth, a celebration took over the entire school, a celebration of her, as the founder of Aisling.
The students and teachers all participated in remembering and honoring her mission.
And they got cupcakes. Always cupcakes. Because it was her birthday, and we celebrated people at Aisling, not just education.
Traditionally, I arrived first on this day.
I walked the hallways, stopping to admire all the art and writing projects that lined the walls in honor of my grandmother.
Drawings, haiku, acrostic poems, essays, school photography.
Remarkable. None of these children knew her, but the way they captured her essence was breathtaking.
The sound of steps echoed behind me. I paused and turned as Darcy strode down the hall, a colorful Aisling shirt on and a coffee in each hand. She beamed at me and wiggled her hips.
Darcy always knew what I needed. I mean, of course I always welcomed coffee, but she knew what kind of energy to bring when she squished me in a hug that was a little longer and tighter than normal. No words, either. Just a little extra love and, hallelujah, some sacred bean water.
I made gimme hands and reached toward one of the drinks in her hand. “Thank you, you’re a godsend.”
She gave me a curtsy. “Just earning my Best Friend of the Year title.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “You’re definitely a contender.”
She stuck her tongue out at me, and we walked in silence down the hall. We reached the section of the corridor with my grandmother’s photo and her founder’s story. Her mission still very much drove the school forward, and her motto, “Learn by HEART,” proved strong.
She wished for each child’s education to go beyond academics and into their values as compassionate and responsible people. Each letter in the word HEART stood for an important goal in her mission for Aisling. She emphasized honesty, eagerness, adaptability, reliability, and thankfulness.
I stood for a moment, my gaze on my grandmother’s beautiful portrait.
Her warm eyes, her welcoming smile, and her beaming pride ignited something inside me.
All around her portrait were candid photos of her with students, accepting awards, reading books at the local library.
Each one revived my ambition as an educator, as a leader in this school, as my grandmother’s predecessor.
There were so many amazing teachers in this school, truly some of the very best in the field, but I knew deep in my heart that I was meant to follow her lead.
It was me who would carry on her spirit.
I homed in on the letters again, especially the H. Honesty. I swallowed hard but smiled at Darcy and continued down the hall, letting go of the curl in my stomach as I considered what the very first letter in her mission stood for.
Darcy broke the silence, holding her coffee in one hand and grabbing my hand in the other. “I wish I could have met her.” Though her words were heavy, she swung our arms back and forth like children skipping happily through a park. “If she’s anything like you, she must have been amazing.”
We reached my classroom, where I flopped my bags down on my desk, then noticed a cup of coffee and a card. I looked up at Darcy, and her focus was already on it. “Did you already get coffee, you crazy little caffeine monster?”
I shook my head. “No, I have no idea what…” The handwriting on the front of the card drew my attention. It was most certainly written by a kindergartner. Instantly, I knew. In an attempt to dodge the topic, I shrugged at Darcy. “Guess I have another cup to help me get through this long day.”
She squinted, a brow flicking up. “Read the card, Cienna.”
Reluctantly, I tore my index finger through the envelope and peeled open the flap, stalling a bit, then pulled out the card.
Good morning, my sweet caffeine addict.
If coffee is your love language, then you deserve a school full of cups filled to the brim with lattes, cold brew, and cappuccinos.
You are so adored by your students and fellow teachers.
Parents love you, too, and while I don’t appreciate those flirty dads, I can’t blame them.
You’re amazing, and your grandmother is so proud of you. We are so proud of you.
Reed and Abigail
Tears threatened behind my eyes as I read, clutching my chest, touching the spot where Abigail wrote her name all by herself. Darcy tore the card out of my hands before I could put it in my desk for safekeeping. As she read, her eyes grew wider and wider until she burst out, “Cienna!”
I shushed her, even though there would hardly be anyone here this early. She glared back at me, and then her mouth dropped open. “Did this man just profess his love for you with coffee?”
I snatched the card back from her and shoved it in my desk drawer. “Don’t be ridiculous. We aren’t there yet.” Were we?
“Has he seen you naked?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know the answer to that. Stop prying for more details. It’s creepy.”
“Does he feed you when you’re hangry?”
I messed with papers at my desk, ready to end this conversation. “We eat together often, yes.”
“Does he text you first thing in the morning?” She’s the worst.
I glared exasperatedly. “Yes, because he’s a thoughtful boyfriend.”
“Who is madly in love with you,” she nearly sang and then made the most annoying shrieking sound, clapping frantically like the lovable lunatic she was. She crashed into me with a hug. I hugged her back but pushed away once she started hopping up and down.
“How many coffees did you have?”
Once the hopping halted, she stared at me with the goofiest smile. “I’m just so happy for you.”
“Darcy, you’re making a big deal out of a little card.” I brushed her off, just as the door to my classroom opened.
“Darcy making a big deal out of something? That’s absurd.” Karen strode in, coffee in hand, eyes lit up with amusement.
Darcy zipped her lips and stood up straight, and Karen opened her arms, approaching me for a hug. “Oops, don’t want to spill this on you.” She stepped back and braced her coffee that had pooled a little at its lid. “This is actually for you. I know it’s a long day.”
I tried to discreetly shield her view of the other two coffees on my desk, but she peered over my shoulder. “I see you have a pile started.” She flicked up a brow and set it down next to the others.
She patted my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s your grandmother’s way of sending her message for you to wake up and enjoy her day.”
Before I could stop them, tears sprang free from my lashes. Darcy reached her hand up and swiped gently, just below my eye. “Girl, I hope you wore waterproof mascara today.”
I huffed out a sniffly giggle and nodded at her.
“Thank goodness. Your face might be a hot mess today, but your eyes will pop.” She popped her P with flair, pulling another halfhearted but much appreciated giggle from me.
Karen gave my shoulder a comforting pat. “I just wanted to drop that off. I know you’ll be here late tonight, what with the PTA meeting and then your committee group. Today will be a beautiful celebration. Spirits will be high in her honor, and if you need me, you know I’m here.”
She made her way to the door, but before she exited, she turned and smiled. “It was sweet of Mr. Marsh to order you coffee this morning.” What the fuck? “You might want to scribble his name off the cup, in case someone nosy comes around.”
I knew the exact nosy person to worry about, and with all the various activities happening today, she’d surely find a way to snoop around in my classroom.
The day was bustling with positive energy, just as Karen had predicted.
We started with an assembly, announcing awards for students who exemplified the HEART motto.
I was proud of my class for being able to handle thirty minutes of sitting and listening with minimal fidgets and potty breaks.
For a kindergarten teacher, that was quite a success, and I rewarded them with extra freeze-dance time to get out all of those pent-up wiggles.
Abigail, however, wasn’t dancing. She sat at her desk coloring. She actually hadn’t talked to me all morning. Worrying that something happened, I approached her and kneeled at her desk. “Hi, Abi, what are you drawing?”
She turned her picture around and looked at me with not-quite sadness in her eyes. Was that worry? Fear?
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
She turned in her chair, crossing her arms and nearly hugging herself. “I have something to tell you, and I’m afraid I’ll get in trouble.” Abi was a vibrant—and occasionally spicy—girl, but I couldn’t imagine her doing something to warrant her fears.
I patted her knee. “You can tell me, and we will figure it out together.”
She looked at her lap, then up to me, eyes glistening. “I used your pretty smelly lotion.”
Huh? Before I could ask, she continued, “The one you have in Uncle Reed’s car. It smelled so pretty, and I wanted to smell pretty like how you always do.”
Relief and amusement hit me at once, and I knelt closer to her, wanting so badly to tug her onto my lap to squeeze and reassure her.
“I’m not mad, Abigail. It’s okay. You should always ask first before you use something that belongs to someone else, but it’s okay if you use my lotion. In fact, you can have it.”