Chapter 1 #2
Colin tried to remember another time when Adsila had stood up for him, and came up blank. Clearly his father was just as surprised. “Who said anything about that? I need him—”
“And I’m telling you this isn’t just about what you need.
” She planted fists on hips. “You lost your wife, you been dealing with it best you can. But the truth is, you’ve had the heart ripped out of your chest. And that blindness means you don’t have any idea how much that boy is hurting, same as you.
His momma is gone and his daddy …” She stopped, huffed once, then quietly declared, “Your boy is special. It’s high time you see that for yourself. ”
His father stared at the empty doorway as her gentle tread made the kitchen floor creak. Only when the garage door clicked shut did he jerk slightly. He examined Colin and asked, “You going to give me any trouble?”
Colin had no idea what his father was talking about. Even so, he knew it was safest to shake his head.
“Good.” His father picked up Adsila’s plate and shoveled the contents onto his own. The bullet head bent back over and he resumed eating. His father’s hair was cropped so short the scalp was visible. “Eat your eggs.”
On the school bus and in the hallway and as he entered class, Colin mulled over what had just happened. It was the first time Colin had ever heard Adsila mention his mother. Recalling the words made his eyes burn.
He was usually the first to sit down. School was an enormously confusing place, loud and rough, the children constantly doing things he didn’t understand.
The classroom was quiet, at least until the bell rang.
He liked the smell of chalk and dust and the cleaner they used on the floor.
The teacher was strange as well, how she exuded such delight over the simplest of things, shining down her special joy when a student got something right.
“Colin, good, I was hoping you would be here.” She entered and smiled in her lovely, special way. “Will you come with me, please?”
He looked at the clock on the wall above the door. “It’s almost nine.”
“What do you know, you can tell time.” She walked over and smiled down at him. “Those are the first words you have spoken in this classroom. Ever.”
He had no idea how to respond except, “Class is about to start.”
“It is. But there’s someone I want you to meet, and she has time for you now. Her name is Celeste Talbot. She’s a very special lady, and she’s come a long way to meet you.” She offered her hand. “We don’t want to keep her waiting.”
They walked like that, him holding the teacher’s hand, through the crowd of noisy children, all of whom watched the two of them.
The girls stared, the boys laughed out loud.
Colin felt his face flame red, but for once he did not mind.
He liked her closeness, the scent of lilacs in her clothes, the warmth in her hand as she guided him forward.
They entered the principal’s outer office, where a dark, heavyset woman stood by the window, studying a file. She turned toward them and said, “Is this the man of the hour?”
“Colin Eames, can you say hello to Dr. Talbot?”
“How do you do, Colin?” She did not seem to expect a reply. Instead, she motioned to the principal’s open door. “Why don’t we go inside?”
Colin knew they probably expected him to be frightened, especially when his teacher remained in the outer office. But there was something about this big woman, a deep, penetrating force to her gaze, that left him feeling okay. He liked the way she studied him. Like she saw him. Like she cared.
The room was empty save for them. The lady pointed him into a straight-backed chair, then pulled another one in so close they almost sat with their knees touching.
She looked even bigger from this angle, a dark mountain of a woman encased in a navy suit.
“I want you to call me Celeste, all right? Adsila is my sister-in-law. She’s married to my older brother.
She’s spoken about you a few times, and I’ve also heard some things from your teacher.
I’m going to give it to you straight. Most of the time I’m called in when a child has troubles.
Problems at home, in the street, maybe even problems inside themselves.
I’m supposed to deliver a first assessment.
That’s a fancy word meaning I’m supposed to check you out.
See if you need help. Are we clear so far, Colin? Are you paying attention?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Real good. Because the only way we can make this work is, first, you need to be paying careful attention. Second, you need to tell me what’s on your mind. Will you do that?”
He nodded.
“There, see? I knew you were going to be a great one to work with. Do I scare you, Colin? Are you frightened?”
He shook his head.
“Can you say that out loud for me?”
“No, I’m not scared of you.”
“And what a lovely voice you have. Okay, Colin. I want to ask you a question. And I want you to give it to me straight. Tell me the first thing that comes into your mind. Just let it out. Nobody else but us two here is going to hear what you have to say. What is it you’re thinking?”
It just popped into his head. Like a tiny electric spark he had not even noticed until that moment. “What is a tempest in a teapot?”
She actually laughed out loud. “What on earth?”
Colin liked her then. She had a laugh like a big human bell. “It’s something I read last night.”
She lost her smile. “You read it.”
“Just before I went to bed. The last thing.”
“Where did you read this, Colin?”
“The Raleigh News and Observer editorial page.” He was sorry to see her smile go away. “I know what a tempest is. And a teapot. But the two words together, they don’t make sense. The editorial had it in there twice. Once, maybe it was a mistake. But not two times.”
She reached for her purse and drew out her phone. “I think maybe I’d better record this conversation. Is that okay with you, Colin?”
“I guess.”
“What do you think tempest means?”
“A big storm. Violent. Dangerous.”
“That’s exactly right.” Her words came more slowly now. Careful. Precise. “A tempest in a teapot means someone or something is making a big fuss about nothing.”
Colin rocked back and forth. “Wow.”
“Okay, Colin, remember what I said at the beginning? I need you to be honest with me. I can almost see the gears in that beautiful little head of yours grinding away. Tell me what you’re thinking. Let me share in what’s happening here.”
He loved how she watched him. Totally focused on him.
There was nothing else in the world except her and him.
Together. Talking with her was as easy as being silent most of the time.
“I love having things become clear. What you said, it makes me understand the editorial. The person writing—his name was Doctor Arthur M. Bell—he’s angry because the Supreme Court wants a university in Wisconsin to change its admission policy to promote affirmative action.
He says a state university should be allowed to make its own mind up.
Not follow rules laid down in Washington.
” He stumbled twice in explaining, over affirmative and admission. “Long words are hard.”
“Yes, they most certainly are.” She seemed to find a need to draw in closer still. “Do you like reading the editorial page?”
“I like how it shows the way people think.”
“Why does that interest you, Colin?”
Suddenly he found himself wanting to cry. Since his father had started drinking most nights, he’d come to hate it whenever Colin cried. Stop acting like a baby, he’d said, shouting at Colin. Stand up and be a man.
Colin swallowed hard and said, “People are so confusing.”
She reached out and gripped his knee. Just for a moment. But in the touch Colin felt the same warm strength he saw in the woman’s gaze. “Do you like numbers?”
He nodded. “A whole lot.”
“I’m going to skip over the simple stuff and go straight to the gravy. Can you tell me what is seven times eight?”
“Fifty-six.”
“Okay. Good. How about fifty-three times one hundred and six?”
“Five thousand six hundred and eighteen.”
She studied him a moment, tapped on her phone, studied him some more. “Do you know what a square root is, Colin? No? Okay, the square of a number is when you multiply it by itself. So the square of seven is …”
“Forty-nine.”
“Right on the money. So the square root is the opposite value. When you multiply it by itself, it gives you the original number. So the square root of seven, what do you think that is?”
“That’s a hard one.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the numbers just keep going on and on.”
If anything, the fire in that dark gaze grew fiercer still. “Give me just the first five numbers.”
“Two point six four five seven.” His heart raced with the thrill of learning something new. Square. Square root. He was going to have fun with those.
She rose to her feet. “You just wait right there. I won’t be a moment.”
Celeste Talbot moved fast for a woman her size. Colin heard voices in the outer office, then Celeste returned holding a newspaper and a book. “Okay, now. Have you seen today’s paper?”
“No. I only read it after school.”
She handed him the front page. “So tell me what it says here … let’s see, this article looks safe enough. What does this headline say?”
“‘Deal with Iran’s regime back on the table.’”
“Do you know what that means?”
“Not exactly.” Colin saw her register a genuine disappointment.
He suddenly found himself wanting her to be pleased.
So he rushed, “I mean, I know they’re negotiating”—another tough word—“and Iran is saying America has to lift sanctions. But I don’t know what’s happened since yesterday because I didn’t read the paper yet. ”
“Iran has dropped their demands for us to take the first step, is what I think they’re saying.
” She was flipping through pages of the book she held as she spoke.
Then she handed it to him. “Can you read this?” She saw he was looking at the three people now crowded into the doorway.
“Don’t pay them any mind, Colin. Just read this text, please. ”
He leaned over the page and read where her finger pointed. “‘All too often in childhood the fires of genius falter. There is a very great risk that unless proper care is given, the fire may become snuffed out.’”
“All right, that’s enough.” She took the book from him. “Do you understand that term, snuffed out?”
“Like when a candle stops burning.”
“Exactly. And that’s what I want to speak with your father about.
Keeping your candle lit.” She was intent upon him, laser focused.
Which meant she saw his sudden flash of fear.
She glanced at the trio in the doorway, then looked down at the file in her lap.
She turned a page. Another. “Your father is the sheriff.”
She had not asked a question, and Colin saw no need to respond.
“Your mother passed away when you were very young. I’m so sorry. You must miss her very much.” She closed the file. “I think maybe you and I should have a talk with your father.”