by Debbie Burns
“Olivia, I believe it when people say things happen exactly the way they’re supposed to happen, even if it doesn’t always seem like it in the moment.”
She stabbed at a half tomato, then wound her fork around a bit of steamed spinach. “I like being a teacher. The only reason I didn’t go to school for it originally was because of fear about not making enough money, and that was me being one hundred percent reactive to the environment I grew up in. My parents… That’s a story for another day, I guess. Like I told you, thank goodness we had my grandparents to turn to, or I’d have spent half my childhood in a car or on someone else’s couch. But when I was a kid in elementary school, I had a friend whose mother was a teacher. Every summer just before school started, I’d get to go in with her while her mom got her classroom prepped. We used to play school in empty classrooms, and I don’t know, it was just so clear teaching was what I wanted to do. Then money was so tight just before college that I made a different decision and majored in something that worked with both my dyslexia and the employment market.
“Once I had my degree, nothing felt right. I wanted to do something that would let me make the difference I wanted to make—connecting with kids and getting them passionate about math or science. And now that I’ve been through the Teach for America program and am certified, it just feels like the right doors open just enough for me to get a good look at what’s inside but not enough for me to really step in.”
“They’ll open all the way; I’m sure of it. From the stories you’ve told, you’re a great teacher, the kind that gets nominated for teacher of the year and all that other stuff.”
Olivia rolled her neck in a slow circle. “Thank you, but what if they don’t?”
“They will. Trust me.” He leaned forward and cupped his hand over hers. “Better yet, trust yourself. From personal experience, I think that’s the biggest step a person can make.”
She pulled in a slow breath and turned her hand over to squeeze his. “Trust myself, huh? I haven’t exactly mastered that, but I’ll give it a whirl.”
Morgan instantly picked up on the hand-holding. Whether it was because he wanted in on their moment of connection or because he’d lost patience with waiting at attention in hope of a bite of food, he stood up and shoved his head underneath Olivia’s arm, giving her mouth a thorough sniff that made her pull away and brought a delighted smile to her face.
“Gabe’s the only one who gets mouth kisses, goober.”
“You got that right.”
Olivia was patting Morgan on the shoulder when, in the space of a mere second, he yanked the trout fillet off her plate and onto the concrete patio floor. Before she could even begin to reprimand him, he gulped it down in two quick bites.
“Oh my God. What do I do?”
Gabe shook his head, laughing. “I think we’re best chalking that one up to experience and ordering you something else.”
Olivia curled forward, overtaken by laughter for the first time all night. “To be honest, the way my stomach feels after all these waves of emotion, that blue cheese burger and some fries seem like they’d go down a whole lot easier than that fish was about to…but only if you eat half.”
Gabe clasped a hand over his stomach. “I could be talked into that.”
Olivia let out a contented nod. “Then we’ll start over tomorrow on the healthy eating.”
Two tables over, Gus, the Boston terrier, had dropped his squeakless toy and pressed to the edge of his leash as Morgan inhaled the trout. He was continuing to let out a series of sharp barks in clear reprimand.
“Yeah, about that, little dog, I don’t think Morgan cares,” Gabe said, chuckling.
As if in agreement, Morgan stretched out across the patio in obvious contentment and let out a single woof that sent Gus back to the other side of the table with his toy.
Gabe chuckled. “You know what that is?”
“Disobedience?”
“Yeah, that, but I was going to go with having trust in oneself. He’s got zero doubt in the world he could kick that terrier’s ass, and no one’s going to tell him differently.”
Still laughing, Olivia nodded in agreement. “It only makes sense that he’s got some things to teach me too.”
Chapter 26
Olivia spent her free time over the following week and a half checking the websites of every middle school in drivable range of the shelter—the spot that was turning out to be the perfect location for both her and Gabe. Disheartening as it was, her search confirmed that for whatever reason, there was no shortage of math and science teachers this year. Upon applying to the handful of schools with open positions in the area, she learned each school had received upward of fifty or sixty applications. With numbers like that, it was no wonder she wasn’t being called for interviews.
A part of her wanted to give in to panic and shut down, but instead, she threw herself into ending the school year with the best effort she could give it, including organizing what was turning out to be a giant supply drive for the shelter. Her last-hour students were creating a buzz that was expanding through the school. With Principal Garcia’s consent, they’d hung posters, passed out flyers, advertised in the school newspaper, and publicized the drive twice over the intercom during morning announcements.
As a result, the back corner of her classroom was overflowing. Olivia was thankful they’d secured a full-size school bus to transport the kids and supplies to the shelter next week. Some of the items—towels, blankets, and dishcloths—required nothing more than a cleaning out of closets or a redirection of recycling—nonglossy newspaper for shredding for the shelter’s few rabbit cages—while others had required a financial investment.
Not for the first time, Olivia realized the financial difference of where she taught now, a top-rated magnet school that attracted some of the brightest kids in the city, from the continuously-struggling-for-funding school where she’d done her teacher training and the one where she’d taught near her hometown last semester that had been on the verge of closing its doors.
Perhaps it shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was to see how giving the Westbury Middle families were, but expensive bags of dog and cat food, cat litter, nylon bones, cat toys, leashes, and grooming supplies were piling up as well. Olivia was particularly touched by some of the donations being made that weren’t on the list, particularly ones meant for the staff and volunteers—prepacked snacks and bottled drinks and even a gift certificate to a Webster Groves takeout pizza joint for a weekend-volunteer pizza party.
When Olivia wasn’t at work, she spent her time with Gabe or at the shelter where she always made time for Morgan, who she was bonding with more each visit despite knowing it might only end in a broken heart. After giving it some thought, Aunt Becky had come forward to say she could be talked into allowing him to stay at her house as long as they made an effort to keep Morgan and Coco apart until Coco had adjusted, or indefinitely if she didn’t. But without promise of a job, Olivia was having second thoughts about being able to provide the kind of life Morgan needed. As much as she adored the tenderhearted and stubborn dog, maybe it was best to wait and see if an adopter came forward who could give him a better life right now.
Both firm believers that everything was going to work out, Gabe and Ava were encouraging her to adopt Morgan regardless of the uncertainty. But Olivia just wasn’t sure.
After the final bell rang for the day, Olivia helped three of her students who were staying after for track and hung around to do a quick sorting and counting of the supplies that had been brought in so far. To keep the supply drive related to math, everything was being counted, and the students would be using algebra to figure out how many animals would benefit from the drive based on their individual needs.
“Should we track the food that’s being collected by bags or total weight?” Addison asked. The drive had been her idea, and the kid had more than impressed
Olivia with the way she’d continued to be a strong leader in ensuring the drive came together.
After mulling it over, Olivia said, “How about both for now? Since we’re getting bags of all sizes, it makes sense to record weight too. Hopefully we get an average weight of food consumed each day at the shelter by both dogs and cats and really provide some good data when you all present your results.”
“What about the nylon bones?”
“For everything else, I think we can stick to number only.”
It took about fifteen minutes to get everything counted and sorted and marked since the collection was still growing, and Olivia sent them on their way with the last three granola bars from her snack drawer.
She was almost brought to tears when Addison hugged her on the way out. “Ms. Graham, you’re the best teacher I’ve ever had. I wish you were coming back next year.”
“That’s so nice to hear, Addison. I won’t lie. I wish I was too.”
“Do you know where you’re teaching yet?”
“Not yet.” She left it at that. There was no reason to bring some of her favorite students down with her troubles.
After they headed out and she got to her desk, she found she had two new voicemails on her phone. The first was from the shelter, and she listened to it first.
“Olivia, hey, it’s Megan. I hope I’m not overstepping here, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. We had some serious interest in Morgan today. It was a family with two young kids. They were close to deciding to adopt him but decided instead to sleep on it tonight. Since they have young kids and no fence, we’d have to do a home visit before adopting him out.” There was a pause and then Megan added, “I just wanted you to know. And I know they were unfamiliar to him, but he looked pretty much the same way he did when we were giving him a bath, which I suspect is enough not to have to say any more about his excitement level.” After an audible sigh, Megan finished with, “That’s it. Sorry, lady. No pressure. Just thought you needed to know.”
Olivia’s heart pounded in her chest. How young were the kids and what kind of kids were they? Were they gentle and laid-back or the rough-and-tumble sort? Morgan was obedient enough, but he wasn’t playful like some dogs. Would he take having his ears or tail tugged or being ridden like a horse? She could never imagine him snarling or snapping, but she also couldn’t imagine him finding that fun either.
With shaky hands, she listened to the other voicemail. It was a 573 area code, which meant the caller was most likely from her hometown.
“Olivia Graham, this is Principal Rutherford. Give me a call when you have a minute, will ya?”
That was it. Nothing else. Her heart raced harder as she remembered him walking into her classroom a little over five months ago and telling her that with their budget crisis, combined with the three students they’d lost to relocations, they’d made a proactive decision to combine classes. She no longer had a job for the spring semester.
That brought you here. To these kids. To Gabe. To Morgan. To Aunt Becky and that little town that was so healing when you most needed it.
She took a long drink of water and dialed back his number. He answered on the second ring.
“Olivia. I was hoping to hear from you yet today.”
“Hi. Sorry I missed your call. I was with my students.”
“I’ll cut to the chase. Rumor has it your contract up there wasn’t extended next year. That right?”
“Ahh…yeah. The teacher who took the extended leave of absence is coming back.”
“Well, you know what they say. ‘One man’s tragedy is another man’s treasure.’ Looks like we get to split the eighth graders into the two classes again next year. You’re our first choice at bringing in a teacher. And while I can’t guarantee anything beyond next school year, I can guarantee you wouldn’t be cut midyear again. We’ve got the budget to carry us through even if there’s a drop in class size after the start of the year again.”
Olivia’s pulse burst into hyperdrive. “I, uh, don’t know what to say.”
“We’re even giving salary increases next year. First time in a couple years. Three and a quarter percent.”
“Um, how many have applied so far?”
“Not a one. Everything was just finalized today. Given that you technically held a contract here this school year, added to the way you handled things and the effort you gave those kids, I won’t post it. If you want it, that is.”
Even though she’d just had a drink, Olivia’s mouth had gone dry and it was hard to swallow. “How soon would you need an answer?”
“Ah, today’s Wednesday. Any chance you could run down here this week sometime? I could have the contract drawn up and ready.”
It was happening too fast to think. “I, uh, could probably come down Friday after school lets out. It would be close to six before I could get there though.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you come on down, and the wife and I will take you out to dinner? Bet you miss the Big E’s place.”
“Oh. Wow. That would be very nice. Thank you.” Her vision had gone blurry, and in her mind’s eye she kept seeing Gabe, that remarkable mouth of his twisted in disappointment and a heaviness in his gaze. No, no, no. Tell him no. You’re not leaving Gabe.
She thanked him again and hung up. She dropped the phone and covered her mouth in shaky hands. First Morgan, now this city. Gabe. The shelter. Everything.
She wanted to teach. More than anything. Hadn’t she just said that? But did she? Enough to go home again where everyone knew her—or at least thought they did—and made enough judgments to last her a lifetime?
But a teaching position that was guaranteed for an entire year could open doors up here in St. Louis next year. And it wasn’t as if she’d be moving to Alaska. She and Gabe could make it through. She’d come up on weekends. She wouldn’t even have to stop volunteering at the shelter.
What would Ava think? She shook her head hard, sending her long locks tousling over her shoulders. She knew full well what Ava would think. She’d think she’d lost her mind.
Knowing it would be completely useless to attempt to sit around and plan lessons with all these thoughts roaming through her head, she logged off her computer and headed out for the day. She needed to tell Gabe and Ava, and even owed Aunt Becky a call.
But right now, there was something she wanted—no, needed—to do more than anything else.
* * *
Memories of his home flashed through the dog’s mind as he dozed in his kennel in late afternoon. He woke up to the scents of the grasses, birds, and squirrels just beyond reach as his dreams faded.
He’d been here in this new place long enough that he no longer shook with fear at all the strange sounds and smells, and he’d come to trust these unfamiliar people meant him no harm. He was also beginning to trust that the dogs flanking both sides of his kennel weren’t a threat either, no matter how much they’d barked and growled when he was first placed between them. They were beginning to tolerate him just as he was them, though he disliked not being able to move away and claim a space of his own far from where they slept.
His life before coming here had been a solitary one, as far back as he could remember. This life was different. The day here was filled with commotion almost as long as the sun was in the sky. People of all shapes and sizes stopped by his kennel to stare at him and to call out the name that he recognized was distinctly meant to call his attention. Morgan.
Some of them sank to his level and flattened their hands against the metal for him to sniff and even lick when they tasted of food. Others opened the door and clipped a leash to his collar, sometimes taking him outside where he could stretch his legs and catch new and unfamiliar scents on the wind. Other times, like today, he was taken into a small, confined room where strangers were waiting to run their hands along his body and give him commands for savory pieces of food that
made his mouth water in anticipation.
Some of the people pleased him; others, like the anxious and loud ones who’d been in the room today, he preferred to get away from as fast as he could. But none of them held the same appeal as the woman whose smell and look and sound and touch were distinctly familiar to him now. When he was awake, and people were coming and going, he watched for her to appear.
Whenever she pushed past the doors, locking eyes and calling out that word—Morgan—the dog grew so full of happiness that his whole body shook. The sound of her voice made him want to pounce and jump and left him wanting to hear it again and again, the same way he wanted her to take him with her when she went away, wherever she went.
She’d done it once, her and the man who’d pulled him from the water when he could no longer swim. That night the dog had been more content than since before he’d left his home. She was the one who’d brought him to this place. He knew by the scents in the air that it was too far from his home to ever find his way back.
At first, the dog had longed for her to bring him back there, back to the quiet land near the river. As he grew strong here and never felt the great hunger or thirst again, he remembered the long stretch of days before the water rose, and he no longer wanted that.
He thought of the man who’d cared for him most of the dog’s life—the one whose voice had been stern but whose touch had been gentle much more than it had been rough—and missed him. But the man had stopped coming, had stopped caring for him, and the dog no longer yearned for him the way he once had during the long, quiet days by the river.
Here, the dog was never hungry or thirsty, and no one’s touch was ever rough or painful. Still, the dog wanted something beyond this place even though he couldn’t imagine any life other than the one he’d lived before and the one he lived now.
He was dozing again when he caught the woman’s scent wafting through the doors. He barked and strained to hear her voice. Finally, he heard it but just barely, muted as it was by the doors and the walls. Hoping she’d come to him, he barked and barked till the dogs flanking his sides joined in, barking wildly enough that he could no longer hear her.
