Chapter 2
two
. . .
Lacy
The clock on the wall ticks relentlessly as I arrange the construction paper and safety scissors on each small desk.
Six-year-olds love cutting and pasting, and today's lesson on animal habitats should keep them engaged right up until the bell rings.
I smooth down my floral dress and take a deep breath.
Monday mornings are always a challenge after the weekend break, but there's something about this particular Monday that has my stomach in knots.
It's not the parent-teacher conferences scheduled for next week. I've done dozens of those in my four years of teaching first grade at Oakridge Elementary. It's the thought of one specific parent that has me checking my reflection in the small mirror I keep in my desk drawer.
Colby Reynolds. Single dad. Tattoos. Arms that look like they could lift a truck. And eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at his daughter.
"Miss Bennett, I made this for you!"
I turn to see Susie Reynolds bouncing toward me, her dark curls swinging with each step. She holds up a slightly crumpled drawing of what appears to be a cat with rainbow stripes.
"It's beautiful, Susie," I say, accepting the masterpiece. "Is this your cat at home?"
She giggles, revealing a new gap where her front tooth used to be. "No, silly! It's the cat I want Daddy to get me for my birthday. I'm gonna be seven!"
"Well, that's a very special birthday," I tell her, tacking the drawing to our "Artist of the Day" board. "Do you think your dad will get you a rainbow cat?"
"Daddy says real cats don't come in rainbow colors, but maybe he'll get me a regular one." She shrugs with the pragmatism only children possess. "He says he'll think about it, which Daddy language for 'probably yes but don't tell anyone I said so.'"
I laugh, my heart warming at this glimpse into their relationship.
In the three months since school started, I've observed enough to know that Colby Reynolds is devoted to his daughter.
Single parenting isn't easy—I've seen enough struggling families to recognize the ones that are thriving despite the challenges. The Reynolds are definitely thriving.
"Okay, everyone, find your seats!" I clap my hands as the classroom fills with energetic first-graders. "Let's start our morning meeting!"
Twenty-two small bodies wiggle their way to the colorful carpet at the front of the room. I sit in my rocking chair—a splurge I justified as a teaching necessity—and pick up our morning greeting stick.
"Good morning, friends!" I beam at them.
"Good morning, Miss Bennett!" they chorus back, some enthusiastic, some still half-asleep.
The day unfolds in its familiar rhythm. We practice sight words, count by fives, and read a story about a frog who wants to fly. After lunch and recess, we begin our science lesson on habitats.
"Who knows what a habitat is?" I ask, watching eager hands shoot into the air.
"It's where animals live!" Susie calls out without waiting to be called on.
"That's right, Susie, but remember to raise your hand," I remind her gently. "Can someone give an example of a habitat?"
"The ocean!" "The jungle!" "My backyard has bunnies!"
Their enthusiasm is contagious. We spend the afternoon creating habitat dioramas using shoeboxes I've collected throughout the year. Susie works diligently on a forest scene, her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrates on gluing tiny pinecones to create trees.
"My daddy takes me hiking in the woods," she explains when I stop by her desk. "We saw a deer once. It was this big!" She stretches her arms wide, nearly knocking over her glue bottle.
"That sounds amazing," I say, steadying the glue. "Your dad likes outdoor activities, huh?"
"Daddy likes everything that's fun," she states matter-of-factly. "He says it's important to play as hard as you work."
I smile, filing away this new piece of information about Colby Reynolds.
Every conversation with Susie reveals something that makes him seem more appealing, more intriguing.
It's ridiculous, really. I barely know the man beyond our brief interactions at drop-off and pick-up times.
Yet I find myself looking forward to those fleeting moments more than I should.
At three o'clock, I lead my line of students toward the car rider pick-up area.
The afternoon sun is warm for October, and I'm grateful I wore a light dress instead of my usual cardigan and slacks.
The car rider line is my least favorite duty—it's hot, loud, and requires constant vigilance to make sure each child gets into the right vehicle.
But today, I volunteered for it specifically because I knew Colby would be picking up Susie.
I check my appearance quickly in the reflection of the school's glass doors. My blonde hair is still neat in its low ponytail, though a few strands have escaped around my face. My lipstick is long gone, but a quick swipe of tinted balm will have to do.
Cars begin pulling up along the curb, and I call out names through my megaphone as I spot familiar vehicles. "Rodriguez twins! Jackson! Patel!"
The children scamper to their waiting families, backpacks bouncing against their small frames. The line of cars moves steadily forward.
And then I see it—Colby's black pickup truck with the custom detailing on the sides. My heart does a little stutter-step as he pulls to the curb. Unlike most parents who stay in their vehicles, Colby gets out, all six feet of him unfolding from the driver's seat.
"Daddy!" Susie shouts, running to him before I can even call her name.
He scoops her up with ease, spinning her around once before setting her back on her feet. "Hey, pumpkin! How was school today?"
"We made habitats! Mine's a forest like where we go hiking!"
"That sounds awesome," he says, his deep voice carrying across the asphalt. He looks up and catches my eye, offering a smile that shouldn't affect me as much as it does.
I walk over, telling myself it's just to ensure a smooth pickup. "Hi, Mr. Reynolds. Susie did a great job on her project today."
"Please, call me Colby," he says, extending his hand. His palm is warm and calloused against mine, the handshake lingering a moment longer than necessary. "And I'm not surprised. She's been talking about forest animals all weekend."
Up close, I notice the tattoos that peek out from under the rolled sleeves of his button-up shirt. There's something incongruously appealing about a man who looks like he belongs on a motorcycle but dresses up in business casual to pick up his daughter from school.
"Miss Bennett reminded us about parent-teacher conferences next week!" Susie announces, tugging on her father's hand. "You promised you won't forget!"
Colby's eyes—a warm hazel that reminds me of autumn—hold mine. "I wouldn't miss it. Tuesday at 4:30, right?"
I'm surprised he remembers the specific time. "That's right. I'm looking forward to it."
"Me too," he says, and something in his tone makes me wonder if we're still talking about the conference.
"Miss Bennett, can Daddy see my habitat?" Susie asks, bouncing on her toes.
"It's not quite dry yet," I explain. "But he can see it tomorrow when you take it home."
"Or I could stop by after work tomorrow," Colby suggests. "If that's okay with you. I'd love to see it before she brings it home."
The car behind his honks, reminding us we're holding up the line. It also gives us a chance to see each other before the scheduled parent/teacher conference. Sign me the fuck up.
"That would be fine," I say quickly. "I'm usually here until four."
"Perfect. I'll see you tomorrow then." He winks—actually winks—at me before turning back to Susie. It causes my stomach to clench with excitement. It's been way too long since I had a date. "Let's get going, pumpkin. We're causing a traffic jam."
As they walk to his truck, Susie's small hand in his large one, I can't help but stare. Colby helps her into her booster seat, carefully buckling her in before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side. Before getting in, he glances back at me and gives a small wave.
I wave back, feeling a flush creep up my neck as I turn to the next car in line. The rest of car duty passes in a blur as I process what just happened. Did Colby Reynolds just create an excuse to see me again? And am I really this excited about it?
Yes, I decide as I call the next student's name. Yes, I am.
It's been too long since I felt this flutter of anticipation, this spark of possibility. As a first-grade teacher, I spend my days surrounded by small children and married parents. My dating life has been practically non-existent since I took this job.
But now there's Colby—handsome, attentive, devoted to his daughter, and apparently interested in seeing me outside of mandatory school functions.
Tomorrow at four. Just thinking about it makes my stomach flip in a way that's both terrifying and exhilarating. I've kept myself hidden away for so long, trying to be the best person I can be, that I've sort of let life pass me by. Hopefully this is the push I need.
As the last car pulls away, I gather my things and head back to my classroom, already planning what I'll wear tomorrow. Something professional but flattering. Something that says "dedicated teacher" but also "woman who notices how good you look in those jeans."
Because I definitely noticed. And I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be the beginning of something I never expected when I posted the parent-teacher conference sign-up sheet last week.