Fiona took the initiative and walked up to the woman. "Angelina?" she asked. "I'm Fiona Reynolds who spoke to you on the phone. "
The woman turned and blue eyes smiled at her. "You're Canadian, aren't you, Fiona?" She appeared nervous.
"American," Fiona replied. "Harold's gone all shy." While she chattered she led the new arrival back across the concourse.
But Angelina wasn't listening. Her face went chalk white as she stared at the tall thin, bearded man holding a newspaper. "My god, Dad!" she gasped. "I'd know you anywhere."
"Angelina, Aggie!" Harold whispered. He dropped the paper and stepped forward. "Is it really you?" His lips quivered and, without warning, tears streamed down his cheeks.
"It is, Dad. I don't believe it, Dad. You are no different!"
In two steps she was in his arms with tears in her own eyes. Harold just held on and could not stop himself shaking with emotion. "Aggie," he sobbed. "Aggie! But how can it be?"
"I've been back in New Zealand for two years ever since Mom's death, Dad; at Otago University."
"Your mother is dead?" Harold exclaimed. "I didn't know."
Angelina nodded. "I tried to trace you, Dad but the only evidence I had you were still alive was from The Government Superannuation Fund who confirmed you were receiving retirement allowance. They refused to tell me even the town it was being sent to."
"Typical bureaucracy," he sniffed but could not speak again. Instead, he blew his nose and stepped over and hugged Fiona. "You found her, didn't you?" he said, his voice still skill choked with emotion.
Fiona smiled. "Me and the computer." She smiled and flushed when Harold kissed her on the cheek before returning to his daughter.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get your luggage and head out to the Fairmont." He grinned. "I can see why the rural delivery couldn't bring the package out tomorrow."
"I don't understand," his daughter said.
"I only told your Dad we had to pick up a package from the airport," Fiona explained. "I didn't want him to be disappointed if you never arrived."
"Oh I understand.” Angelina laughed. "I had my doubts too. Half way through the flight up I wondered what I'd do if I arrived in the middle of the night to find nobody here. I was still only half convinced your call was genuine."
"Oh Fiona's a crafty one, all right," Harold cut in and held the car door open for his daughter. "You know, your face is the same, Aggie. I remember the smile."
He chuckled and placed his daughter's bag in the back, grinned again at Fiona and walked around to the driver's seat. Seconds later the trio were heading home through the darkness.
*
"Dad," said Julie in the Syracuse motel the evening after the court case. "Kylena and Helen are in the bedroom crying."
"Both of them?" John leaped to his feet.
"Well, Mom was crying and Helen started up in sympathy with her."
"Thanks Sweetheart," John said and rushed through to the bedroom where his wife was lying on the double bed with her arms around Helen. The little girl was sobbing her heart out but Kylena had wiped her red eyes.
"What's wrong my dear?" he asked.
"Nothing, "Kylena sniffed. "Everyone has been so good to us. It's just my condition. I suddenly felt, oh I don't know, claustrophobic, I guess. Helen here tried to comfort me."
"I think I know what you mean," John said and picked Helen up. "You been looking after Mommy, have you sweetie?"
"Yes," sniffed the seven-year-old and snuggled into her father.
John kissed her and lowered her onto the bed. "I lived here all of my life yet I miss the hills of Long Valley Road," he said. "It must be twice as bad for you."
"Me too,” Julie added. "You know, I spent half a day back at Davidson Junior High and all I could think of was my desk by the window at school back home with the hills and Mount Ruapehu beyond them. My friends were great to see but I've changed, I guess."
"So we head home instead of staying another week," John said.
"Do you mind?" Kylena replied. "You know, if Long Valley Road was where Canada is, I wouldn't mind but it seems so far away from here and... " She stopped and smiled.
"What?" John asked.
Kylena took Helen's hand and placed it on her tummy. "Feel bubs kicking," she said.
Helen stopped crying and frowned in concentration as she felt across her stepmother's stomach. "I can, Mommy." She laughed. "Perhaps Bubs wants to go home, too."
"Could be." Kylena smiled before she faced John again. "I'm okay now," she said.
"No, I'll see about an early booking, tomorrow."
*
Palmerston North Airport looked as small as the time of John's first arrival but it wasn't a tiny city in a strange land anymore. It was home, the weather was fine and the Manawatu Plains were like a green carpet after the recent warm spring rain. They walked into the terminal building to find Fiona and Harold waiting.
"Grandma!" Helen called and rushed into her arms as if she'd been away for months, not three weeks. "We missed you Grandma."
"How are you, Harold?" John said and extended his hand.
"Fine," his friend replied. He stepped back and John noticed a woman standing on the edge of their group.
"John, Kylena, Kids," Harold said with pride in his voice. "This is Aggie, my daughter."
Kylena glanced up at the woman standing there with a slight smile on her face. "Oh my God, Aggie." she said. "How did Harold find you?"
"Fiona did," Aggie replied. "I've taken time off to stay with Dad. There's a week to go. I hope you don't mind my intrusion."
"Mind... of course not!" Kylena smiled. "What a thrill it is to have you with us." She turned to Fiona. "I got homesick. Would you believe it?"
"I believe it," Fiona said, “and what about the rest of you?"
"We did everything, Grandma," Helen cried out.
"...But we're glad to be back, too," added a solemn Julie.
*
CHAPTER 14
"This is Deanna Fowler, Teacher's Aid at Junction Road School speaking. We've had a bit of an emergency. I know school has just about started and I wouldn't call but I can think of nobody else to ring at this late hour." The words all rushed into Kylena's ear.
She glanced at her watch. It was ten to nine, commencement time. "Tell me what you need, Deanna," she replied in a soft voice that appeared to calm the woman on the line down a little.
"It's Bruce. He's had an accident at home," Deanna said. "I'm not sure of the details but Janice is rushing him into the doctor. I'm left with the whole school to look after. One parent is coming in to help but we need a teacher."
"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can," Kylena replied. "Now don't worry. Just tell the children to do project work or read until I arrive."
"Thanks Kylena. I know you're on maternity leave but, as I said..."
"I'll see you soon," Kylena replied and hung up.
"Who was that?" Fiona asked.
"Bruce Cheever, the principal at Junction Road School had an accident and Janice, his wife is rushing him into town. Deanna Fowler is at her wits end, I'd say. I could hear kids screaming in the background as she spoke. I'm going over."
Fiona frowned. "But..."
"It's an emergency. I'll be fine."
"Don't overdo it," Fiona warned.
"Okay. I'll leave a note for John," Kylena replied and rushed through to the bedroom to change into a maternity smock. She hated the things but couldn't very well wear shorts and blouse in front of a class of strange children.
*
The noise met Kylena as she walked down the path and in the senior room door. No adults were around and the place was a shambles. On red-faced senior girl was standing at the front trying to control the twenty or so children, paper darts were flying around and a tall boy at the rear was banging his desk top up and down to add to the mayhem.
"That will do!" Kylena's voice cut the room like a knife. "All sit down, please."
All eyes turned her way and
the noise subsided as she walked to the front of the room. However, as she walked by a group of four senior boys one sniggered, "The fat lady arrives."
Kylena stopped and turned so her eyes bore into the youth. "And what did you say, Mr. Newson?" she asked. She didn't know the boy's first name but knew he was one of the Newsons who lived on Long Valley Road.
"Nothing," the boy muttered but gave his companions a grin.
"I see," the teacher replied. "Andrew Newson's son, I believe."
The murmur of noise that had begun to rise again, stopped.
"So!" the boy retorted.
Kylena knew the sort. He bred off his macho image and would thrive if she showed any weakness or anger.
"Your first name, please?" she asked in a voice that was ice cold but low in volume.
"Len," the boy replied and held her eyes as if he dared her to do anything. Kylena walked to the front of the room and saw what she was looking for. On the message board was a list of the families and telephone numbers. While the noise began to rise again, especially from the four senior boys who sensed victory, she noted a number, turned, walked back to Len Newson and stood beside him.
The noise dropped as the teacher pulled a mobile phone from her pocket. She punched in a number and in a voice everyone could hear, spoke to the person on the other end.
"Good morning. Is that Andrew Newson?... Good. This is Kylena Berg speaking. There is nothing to worry about but Bruce is absent and I have been asked to teach at the school for the day... No, none of your children are hurt, Mr. Newson. Your son, Len, though, has refused to co-operate. I'd like you to come down and take him home." She glowered at the boy. "Yes, Mr. Newson, I am afraid I cannot teach a child who calls me a fat lady and continues to think it is one big joke..." A loud voice could be heard coming through the instrument. "You'll be here in ten minutes. Thank you. Goodbye."
She turned to Len. "Your father is coming to get you, Len."
The boy swallowed and stared at her but Kylena ignored him. She walked to the scribble-strewn chalkboard and wiped it clean. Only when she was finished, did she turn and face the class. "Everyone here will find something in their desk to do for ten minutes. Read a book or continue any project work you have. You will not, though talk or get out of your desk." Her eyes hit the four boys, three subdued and Len looking pale. "If any of you think you can fool around, I would strongly advise against it."
She waited while the children found work or a book before she began to draw on the board. In a couple of moments she had a picture of a dragon drawn, a massive creature bellowing smoke from its nostrils. Kylena drew in a gigantic broken wing, some burnt tree stumps and a human crouched behind one stump.
Finally she wrote, Where? Who? Why? and How?" in large letters across the board, turned and smiled at the class. "I want a list of ideas to go with the picture," she said. "Year 7 and 8 will write at least twenty ideas, the younger children, ten or more. Nobody will talk and you have ten minutes. Go."
The children, except Len, gave a slight grin and began.
Five minutes later a very irate farmer appeared out the classroom windows.
"Len's dad," someone whispered. "God is he mad!"
There was a knock and Andrew Newson stood there. He looked a younger version of Kevin, all red in the face and holding his wide brimmed hat in his hand. He glared at his son and snapped as if he was talking to a dog.
"Get out here, boy." The boy shuffled to the door and received a rough shove on the shoulder as he walked past his father. "I apologize for his behaviour, Mrs. Berg," the man said but still looked annoyed. "He won't do it again."
Kylena almost felt sorry for the boy as she explained what had happened. The farmer nodded. "The other two okay?" he snapped and nodded at his two other offspring in the room.
"Yes, fine," Kylena said. "I don't know if I'll be back tomorrow but if I am, Len we will be welcome to return."
"Right, Mrs. Berg. Sorry again. I'll let you get on with it," He turned. "You," he snapped at his son. "Get in the truck."
Kylena turned and wandered around the classroom as the children wrote their notes in silence. Deanna appeared a few moments later, full of apologies and said she had been held up in the junior room. "Was that Andrew?" she asked.
"Yes," Kylena replied." I sent Len home."
Deanna rolled her eyes but made no comment. She gazed at the dragon picture and the children all working away. "How do you do it?" she whispered.
"They're good kids but just need a little motivation."
"But Bruce never has them this quiet."
"It's what I expect," The teacher answered, "See you at morning interval.”
She turned to the class. "Right, I want you to come and sit on the carpet. We'll see what ideas we have."
After morning interval she continued the lesson and within an hour the children were all producing their own project. Art paper was distributed for covers and time out from writing given for the children to draw a cover. Much of the work was poor compared with the standard she expected at Long Valley Road but infinitely better than the scruffy stuff she noticed in the children's exercise books. She sighed. Half the trouble was that the children were bored with the work they had been doing. No wonder the seniors were a behaviour problem.
During the lunch break, Kylena found a wide roll of newsprint and ran it out on the classroom floor so, throughout the afternoon; a massive painting of dragons was completed with everyone contributing. Senior pupils, budded up with younger ones, were allocated one section of the chart to paint together. This idea was new to the class but it worked well.
By three, Kylena was exhausted but the children proud of their work.
"Are you coming back tomorrow, Mrs. Berg?" Ken, one of the senior boys asked.
"I'm not sure. It depends whether Mr. Cheever returns or not."
"I hope so," the boy replied. "We had fun today."
"Why, thank you Ken," Kylena smiled. "I enjoyed the day too."
"Yeah, once we got rid of Len," one of the girls added.
"He'll be okay," the teacher said.
The senior girl, who had been trying to control the class when Kylena arrived, caught her eye and grinned. It seemed as if everyone was fed up with Len's antics.
*
"The place is a shambles," Kylena confided in John on the second evening. "Their books are so messy Len was quite subdued today and didn't do one thing wrong. When he sets his mind to it he can do quite good work."
"Well, one excellent teacher makes a difference but I hope you said you couldn't go back next week."
"I did. I'm exhausted by the end of the day.”
"Yes, Bruce Cheever cut himself up pretty badly."'
"What caused it?" Kylena replied.
"He smashed through the living room window. I heard he was having a row with Janice and she pushed him through it.”
"My God." Kylena laughed. "The hot gossip line is working overtime, isn't it?"
"Yeah," said John. "Fiona found most of it out. It seems the Cheevers have quite a few arguments."
"Oh John," Kylena replied. “Let’s forget about them, shall we? You know how the locals exaggerate everything."
"Okay." He laughed. "But make sure you don't wear yourself down. You are meant to be on maternity leave, you know."
"I know," replied Kylena and kissed her husband. "I'm just helping.”
As it turned out, she spent a week at the school and came home every night exhausted but pleased with her efforts. It rained every day, which didn't help the situation as the children were inside all the time and had to be given activities to do in their spare time, something else never done for them before.
Neither of the Bergs heard until later, but that week caused quite a stir in the district. Locals appreciated the effort she had put in and direct comparisons were made between the work produced by the children under her care and what they achieved with Bruce Cheever.
*
That week was also the last for Agg
ie's visit. On the Wednesday after breakfast, she crouched on the carpet in the tiny cottage living room, fascinated with her father's artwork.
"Oh Dad," she said "I feel honoured that you should think of me over the years, enough to make up a life for me. “She turned to the drawing of the family Harold had imagined she might have. "I must be a disappointment to you, no family or even a partner."
Harold squatted down and began to place the drawings back in the box they came from. "No," he replied in his slow voice. “Proud is the word I would use." He coughed and reached into an old desk he had in the corner of the room and extracted another sheet of paper. "Those old drawings can go now," he whispered and handed Aggie a new one.
Aggie glanced at it, looked again and gasped. " Dad. It's wonderful."
The drawing showed her waiting in the airport terminal on the day of her arrival beside himself, one of the few self-portraits he had drawn. The likeness was exact even down to the expression of wonder in her eyes.
"It's for you, Aggie," Harold muttered. "My first live drawing of you since you were twelve. I'll throw all those fantasy ones out."
"You will not," his daughter responded. "If you don't want them, I'll take them home with me."
"They're yours," Harold responded. “They helped me retain a memory of you but I don't need that now, do I?"
Aggie smiled and stood up. "I've something to show you Dad," she whispered and disappeared into her bedroom.
A moment later she returned with a large photograph album tucked under her arm, sat back down on the carpet and opened the first page. "These are photos I collected of myself. Some are just snapshots but there are a few professional ones, my graduation and so forth."
For more than an hour, the father and daughter went through the album. Included were a few of her mother and some of a young man with her when she was in her early twenties.
"Steven," she said with a touch of sadness. “We were partners for a few years before he drifted on." She chuckled. "I haven't been an old maid all my life, Dad."
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