The Sunday Potluck Club

by Melissa Storm

  It’s okay to need time, she reminded herself again as she surveyed the empty classroom. She’d already missed so much. The year was halfway through, and these children were still strangers to her. By now, she should have built up a special rapport with each of them, understood their unique learning styles and where they each needed a bit of extra help.

  There was no going back. Amy knew that painfully well by now. She’d just have to do the best she could with the time they had left.

  One by one, the children began to arrive and find their desks. Some regarded her warily; others smiled brightly. Their eyes all focused on her, watching, waiting. The substitute teacher had explained her situation, but still Amy wondered how much they actually understood. At seven and eight years of age, most of the students shouldn’t have been confronted with any losses in their own immediate worlds. That would make Amy’s experience strange and puzzling as they tried to wrap their young minds around it.

  As much as it pained her to talk about losing her mother, Amy suspected she’d need to address it head-on and give her students the opportunity to ask questions as part of getting to know one another. Hopefully, she wouldn’t break down in tears after sharing.

  Strong. Confident. Capable.

  The last of the children slipped in just before the final bell, and Amy took a deep breath and rose to her feet. “Good morning, class,” she said in the special voice she adopted only when speaking in front of her students. “I’m your new teacher, Ms. Shannon, and I’m so excited to meet all of you today.”

  A skinny boy in the front row raised his hand high in the air and shook it around. “Where’s Mrs. White?”

  “She’s moved on to teach other students,” Amy answered with what she hoped was a winning smile. “But I promise to make sure we all have lots of fun while learning this semester.”

  The little boy popped his mouth shut and settled back in his chair.

  Amy waited for a moment to see if there would be any other outbursts before continuing. “Since we’re just meeting each other for the first time, I’m going to tell you a little bit about myself. After that, we’ll go around the room so you can each introduce yourselves and tell me something about you. Okay?”

  Some kids nodded and whispered to one another excitedly. One or two groaned, as was to be expected when dealing with a group this young and so early in the morning following a long weekend.

  “Okay!” She clasped her hands together and began the same speech she gave at the start of each year—usually in August instead of late January.

  “I’m Ms. Shannon. I’m twenty-nine years old, and my favorite food is chocolate-chip cookies. I have a cat named Belle, named after my favorite princess, and one of my favorite things to do is read stories with dragons and castles in them.” She paused here to consider whether she should say anything more. Hmm. Perhaps it would be okay to tell them about her mother later. No need to start their relationship off on such a low note. Besides, sharing now would only make her sad.

  “Now, why don’t you tell me about you?” She motioned toward the boy who had inquired after the sub earlier, and waited with a smile.

  “I’m Kyle, and I like chicken nuggets and Iron Man. I don’t like girls.”

  Some of the other boys snickered at this.

  Amy shook her head and said, “For this exercise, let’s focus on the things we do like. Thank you, Kyle. It’s nice to meet you.” She marked his name off on the attendance sheet and wrote his name on the classroom map she’d carry with her for the first few days until she remembered everyone’s names without needing assistance.

  One by one, the children stated their names and a fact or two about themselves. She put a star by those who stumbled over their words or refused to make eye contact, so that she could make sure she spent extra time making them comfortable with her before they got too far into the term.

  By the time she reached the last student, she had a pretty good handle on the personalities that comprised her class that winter.

  “And what’s your name?” Amy prompted when the last little girl didn’t speak.

  The girl shrugged and kept her eyes glued firmly to the desk. Amy noticed that her clothes were wrinkled and her hair seemed to be only half brushed. She hoped that only meant the girl had woken up late that morning—not that she was facing bigger problems at home.

  When the student still didn’t speak, Amy crossed the room and went to stand beside her desk. “It’s okay if you’re feeling shy. Maybe you can whisper your name in my ear.”

  The girl shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “We don’t know her,” a pretty girl named Bailey explained. “She’s new.”

  “Oh, so you’re new like me?” Amy said with a bright smile. “I’m Ms. Shannon,” she said again. “What’s your name?”

  The girl heaved a dramatic sigh, but still refused to speak or even make eye contact with Amy.

  “Hmm, let me check my chart.” Amy lifted the attendance sheet and narrowed in on the unmarked names. “I only have two students unaccounted for today, and I’m guessing you’re not Marcus. So that must mean you’re Olivia.”

  She looked at the girl, who nodded slowly while twisting her fingers into the hem of her already wrinkled shirt.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Olivia. I hope we’ll be very good friends this year,” Amy said before returning to the front of the classroom so she could guide the class in the first lesson of the new semester.

  They had only just begun, and already she had something new to worry about. She hadn’t been able to help her mother, not in the end. But maybe she could find a way to get through to Olivia.

  Life wasn’t over, but it wouldn’t be the same as before, either.

  And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

  Chapter 6

  By the end of the day, Amy was more than ready to go home. Her shoulders sagged with the exhaustion that came from returning to a structured routine. This had been exactly what she’d needed, forcing herself to get out there again.

  At home, it had become too easy to focus on where her mother should have been, what they were supposed to be doing at any given time. But her mother had never been a part of Amy’s work life, which meant the memories couldn’t follow Amy there. It meant Amy was safe as long as she was tucked inside the old brick building.

  If only she’d found a way to return sooner....

  But wishing for that meant regretting that her mother hadn’t died sooner. If the disease had taken her sooner, it would have spared them both the added suffering that came with added time. Still, who would ever wish a loved one gone sooner?

  Not Amy. In fact, she’d give up almost anything to have her mother here with her for just one more day. She’d love the chance to tell her about the new students, to discuss how her day had been.

  At the same time, she wasn’t ready to confide these minor details in her friends. Not yet. They’d been such a staple of her mourning. Amy needed some time to find herself outside of their shared grief, and for today, that meant keeping to herself.

  She stayed in her classroom for about an hour after the children left, searching for any excuse not to head home. By the time she’d finished alphabetizing the books in the little reading corner, however, it became clear that she needed to stop avoiding the inevitable.

  Home wasn’t so bad. She could catch up on her leisure reading. She didn’t have to be melancholic schoolteacher Amy Shannon. She could be the brave and beautiful heroine who attracted suitors left and right, all while saving her kingdom from ruin.

  Yes, she liked that idea very much.

  First, she’d conquer the fictional kingdom; then maybe she’d have the wherewithal to take another stab at figuring out what came next in her living autobiography.

  That seemed the perfect way to celebrate a job well done.

  On her drive back home, she swung through the nearest drive-through and ordered the greasiest combo on the menu. Normally, she tried to eat
relatively clean and healthy—at least for the main course so she could justify indulging her sweet tooth on a near-nightly basis. Today, though, she craved the comfort that came with a large side of fries and a double-decker burger oozing mayo.

  The intoxicating aroma of a heart attack just waiting to happen filled her car, and Amy squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment in order to appreciate it more fully. When she opened them again, a dark blur shot out in front of her car and she had to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into it. Her head jerked forward, sending a sharp, shooting pain up the back of her neck.

  Luckily, the airbags didn’t deploy.

  Unluckily, another car slammed into her from behind.

  Now, her airbags shot open with a loud pop and a startling burst of powder.

  Amy spied the source of the accident watching her from the other side of the street. A dog of all things.

  His mostly black fur appeared matted, and his muzzle hoary with age. Even from this distance, she could see the animal was far too thin. His chances of surviving the remaining winter months probably weren’t the best—especially if he continued to make a habit of running out in front of cars on this busy street.

  Their eyes met for a moment; then the dog turned and squeezed his skeletal body beneath a wire fence, disappearing entirely from Amy’s view.

  A pounding on her window drew her attention back to her current predicament. A frantic man motioned for her to roll down the glass so they could talk.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as his eyes scanned her body for any obvious injuries.

  Amy shivered. She felt so exposed, so naked beneath his probing gaze. And also shaken by the accident.

  At least she hadn’t hit the dog. That would have been a hundred times worse. Insurance would cover the damage to her car, but nothing would have been able to fix the guilt at having taken a life. Yes, it was one thing to witness a death, but quite another to be the one to cause it.

  “Are you okay?” he repeated.

  She tried to focus on the scene unfolding around her, but all she saw was the man’s face. Dark stubble lined his jaw, rising up to meet his shaggy dark hair. Both framed his anxious blue eyes as they seared into her, waiting for a response that would prove she’d come out of this okay. Perhaps he was hoping to nab a get out of guilt free card as well.

  A flashing light drew her eyes past the man, and she watched as a police cruiser parked diagonally across the lane to staunch the flow of traffic. Other drivers navigated around them while stretching their necks to study Amy with pitying expressions. Some people even pulled into the strip mall parking lots that lined the street and ran over on foot to see if they could offer help somehow.

  Amy’s throat felt impossibly dry despite the fact she’d been salivating over her fast-food contraband mere minutes before. Her engine had shut itself down as a cautionary measure following the collision, which prevented her from rolling down the window to speak to the man. Since she didn’t have it in her to yell over the increasing din outside, she wedged her door open and carefully extricated herself from the tangle of her seat belt combined with the massive airbag.

  “I’m fine,” she croaked at last, licking her lips in an attempt to get some much-needed moisture. “There was a dog,” she explained helplessly.

  The man opened the door the rest of the way and extended both hands to help her from the car. “I saw,” he said. “It came out of nowhere.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sputtered. Another shiver rushed through her as she placed her hand into his and allowed him to help her out of her wrecked car.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said in earnest. “I’m just glad no one was hurt.”

  Heat rose to Amy’s face as he checked her over again. To distract them both, she paced toward the back of her car and took in the damage. Her entire back end was crunched up like a soda can.

  Great. Just perfect. This was so not what she needed today.

  “You’re not hurt. Are you?”

  “I’m Amy,” she answered pathetically. It had to be the shock of the accident, causing her to lose her wits like this. At least she hoped that’s all it was. A handsome face had never managed to turn her into a stuttering fool before, and she sure as heck didn’t want that to happen now.

  “I’m Trent,” he said, smiling now. “Here.” He closed the distance between them and pressed a small object into her hand.

  She glanced down at the clean white business card, then back up at him.

  “So we can exchange insurance info,” he explained. “My car just has a little dent in the bumper, but it looks like yours took a lot more damage.”

  She glanced toward his vehicle, then back at the card in her hand.

  He pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Well, if you’re all right then, I guess I’ll be going. I need to pick up my kid before after-school care closes for the night.”

  “Bye,” she said, only half comprehending his words as her head continued to swirl from all that had happened in the last five minutes. She stood mutely by and watched as Trent settled himself back into his car and merged into traffic.

  Like the dog, he quickly disappeared. Funny how someone could make such an immediate impact on her life, only to never be seen again.

  At least no one was hurt.

  Chapter 7

  Amy hesitated while deciding which of her friends to call for help. As much as she hated to bother any of them, she ultimately landed on Bridget, who’d been granted bereavement leave from her job as a vet tech for the remainder of that week. It certainly didn’t escape Amy’s notice that she once would have called upon her mother.

  “Of course, I’ll come get you!” her friend cried. “On my way now!”

  People called Anchorage the biggest small town in the world for good reason. It took less than ten minutes for Bridget to arrive, and in that time, nearly a dozen people stopped by to see if they could offer help in some way. No doubt the gossip vine would inform the others at school tonight, and she’d arrive to flowers and fresh-baked goods waiting at her desk—the same as her colleagues had done to show their support when she’d first received her mother’s terminal diagnosis.

  That was the thing about this town—folks took care of one another. Amy had always enjoyed being on the giving end of that equation, but she was more than ready for everyone to forget anything extraordinary had occurred in her life.

  “Whoa. What happened?” Bridget asked as she arrived on the scene.

  Amy shrugged. “There was a dog.”

  Her friend’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you did not hit him.”

  “Of course, I didn’t,” Amy assured her. “But my not hitting the dog caused some guy named Trent to hit me, and now here we are.” She motioned to her wrecked car, which still took up the better part of the next lane, and groaned.

  Bridget glanced as far as she could in either direction, then turned back to Amy. “Okay, but where is he?”

  “Gone,” she said simply.

  “Well, I hope you got his insurance information.”

  Amy nodded. “I did.”

  Bridget spun around and continued to search the scene. “Did you see what happened to the dog?”

  “He ran away in that direction.” Amy pointed and watched as Bridget’s eager gaze followed the direction of her finger. “Can we just get out of here?” she begged after a brief moment of silence.

  “Sure.” Bridget gave Amy’s shoulder a quick squeeze and then motioned toward her car, which idled at the curb. “I bet you’re ready for this day to be over, huh?”

  She nodded and followed her friend wordlessly. Honestly, she was ready for this entire year to be over, even though they hadn’t quite reached February.

  “How was your day?” Amy asked, once they’d both settled into Bridget’s over-sized sedan and had begun following the GPS instructions to the mechanic shop that was attached to a nearby car dealership. It was the same place the tow truck planned to deliver her crushed-up ca
r.

  “Disappointing,” Bridget answered with a frown, leading Amy to wonder if her friend was finally ready to talk about the impact of her mother’s recent death.

  “Want to tell me about it?” Amy kept her face neutral as she waited to see what Bridget would say next.

  “I called work and asked if I could go back early,” she explained with a sigh. “They said no.”

  Amy bit her lower lip to keep from arguing. Bridget’s manager was absolutely right in this situation. What would happen if Bridget finally acknowledged her grief and broke down while treating an animal patient? That wouldn’t be good for anyone.

  Bridget suddenly rearranged her features into a mischievous smile. “I decided to turn my lemons into lemon martinis, though.”

  “Oh?” Amy rubbed her sweaty palms on her skirt. Her heart still beat wildly from the shock of the accident and then meeting Trent immediately after.

  When Bridget nodded, her chubby cheeks shook from the movement. Amy had always found it strange that Bridget had a teeny, tiny waist, thin arms and legs, and big, full cheeks to go with them. It gave her a childlike appearance that only further supported the others viewing her as a kid sister.

  “I figured, if my job can’t use me this week, there are plenty of others that can. So I signed up to do some volunteer work.” Bridget pushed back against her seat and sped up to take them through a yellow light.

  “What happens when you go back to work next week?” Amy asked pointedly.

  “Well, I’m still off school until August, so I have plenty of time to spare. When school starts again, I’ll just have to figure something out.”

  Volunteering was, of course, a noble way to spend her time, but Amy worried about what would happen when Bridget finally crumpled under the weight of her overpacked scheduled. “But isn’t it a lot? I mean—”