Into Magnolia (Sandy Cove Series Book 3)

by Rosemary Hines

  Into Magnolia

  Sandy Cove Series Book Three

  Rosemary Hines

  Copyright © 2014 Rosemary Wesley Hines

  www.rosemaryhines.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is coincidental and not the intent of either the author or publisher.

  Formatting by 40 Day Publishing

  www.40daypublishing.com

  Cover photography by Benjamin Hines

  www.benjaminhines.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  To the many students who called me Teacher

  “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

  Galatians 6:9

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Around the Bend

  (Sandy Cove Series Book 4 Sample)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  BOOKS BY ROSEMARY HINES

  CHAPTER ONE

  Amber Gamble sat on the floor beside her bed. I hate them. All of them, she thought to herself. This was her third foster home in one year. She was sick and tired of having to move and live with people she didn’t even know. I don’t need any of them. I’d be better off on my own!

  She opened her backpack and pulled out the photo of her mom, her dad, her little brother, and herself. It looked like a normal enough family, but Amber knew better. “Jerks,” she said aloud as she glared into her parents’ faces. Where were they when she needed them most? How dare her dad take off and leave them? And then her mom’s breakdown. She could still see her huddled on the floor in the corner of her bedroom crying and saying she wished she were dead. Ever since then, she’d been worthless as a mom, in and out of psychiatric hospitals and drug rehabs.

  Fine. If that was the way she was going to be, she wished her mom were dead, too. Might as well be. Some mother she turned out to be.

  At first she’d believed that her mom would get better. She and Jack would just be living in separate foster homes for a month or so while Mom got over the whole affair with Dad. That’s what the social worker had told them. “I’m sure your mom will be fine in a few weeks. Then she’ll be able to take you both back home.”

  What a lie. That social worker was a jerk just like the rest of them. It had been almost a year. Her mom was in the looney bin again, her dad was off with his girlfriend somewhere in Arizona, and she and Jack were still living in these stupid foster homes. It didn’t help that she had to keep moving from one home to another. Who wanted a fourteen-year-old loser like her? They all pretended to care for a few weeks or even a couple of months, and then they’d find some excuse to get rid of her.

  “This sucks,” she told Bonnie Blackwell the last time the social worker had come to tell her she’d be living with another family.

  “I know it’s hard, Amber. But you are in short-term foster care. That means you’re being placed with people who only care for kids for a few weeks or months at a time. The good news is that the court thinks you and your mom will be reunited soon. Then you can go back to living as a family — you, your mom, and Jack.”

  “Right,” she replied with a sarcastic tone.

  Amber looked back down at the picture, this time focusing on Jack.

  “I’m calling him right now. We’re out of here,” she said to the wall.

  She took out her cell phone — the one and only decent thing the social worker had given her — and punched in Jack’s number.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice answered.

  “I need to talk to Jack,” Amber demanded.

  “Is this Amber?”

  “None of your business. Just get Jack.”

  “I’m sorry. Jack’s asleep. It’s almost eleven.”

  Amber looked at the phone, scowled, and hung up. “Jerk. What? She thinks I can’t tell time?”

  She rifled through her backpack and found the pack of cigarettes at the bottom. Pulling one out, she lit up and went to sit on the window seat, blowing her smoke out the window as she tried to swallow back her tears.

  When she felt trapped, the cigarettes were her only friends. Thank God she’d met Adam. At least he understood her. And he got her cigarettes whenever she needed them.

  “I swear I’m getting out of this prison,” she said with determination. “And I’m taking Jack with me.”

  Michelle Baron felt a rush of adrenalin. The day had finally arrived, and she eagerly climbed the brick stairs leading up to the entrance of Magnolia Middle School. It was hard for her to believe that she was finally a full-fledged teacher! A childhood dream was about to become her new reality. Now she stood before the school, her spirit soaring and her heart racing as she took it all in.

  It was still early and only a few students were in sight. Off to one side of the parking lot a couple of boys showed off their skateboarding skills. A group of three girls clustered at the top of the stairs comparing class schedules. The girls looked her way as she passed them. “Good morning, ladies,” Michelle offered with a smile.

  Pushing open the heavy glass door, she inhaled the smell of floor polish that told the tale of a busy weekend of cleaning and preparation on the part of the janitorial staff. Magnolia School gleamed, and the bulletin boards lining the halls displayed crisp pictures and announcements for the incoming students. A new year! Michelle’s emotions soared as she considered the possibilities.

  Then her mind shot back to her departure from home thirty minutes earlier. Her daughter Madison was dressed in her first-day-of-school skirt and ruffled tee sh
irt. She looked so confident with her new pink backpack and ‘Best Friends’ binder. Was it really true that their baby was in kindergarten already? Where had the years gone?

  Michelle dreaded telling her little girl she would have to leave for her first day of teaching before Maddie’s bus came to pick her up. Instead, Steve would be there for their daughter’s first walk to the bus stop. The school had an introductory program where parents were allowed to ride the bus with their kindergarteners the first day. Steve had carefully arranged his schedule at the law firm to accommodate this big event.

  “Don’t worry, Mommy. We’ll be fine,” Madison said as she gazed up at Steve. “Daddy knows where the bus comes.”

  “That’s right, pumpkin,” Steve confirmed with a nod and a smile.

  Still, Michelle wished she could have been there to see Maddie climb those steps into the school bus. There was a price to pay for her new teaching job, and she knew this was just the first of many instances when she would realize it.

  Drawing her mind back to the present, she thought about all that she needed to do before class began. First stop, the office to pick up her roll sheets. As she stepped into this hub of the school, the receptionist greeted her with a smile. “Hey there, Michelle! Are you ready?”

  “I think so,” Michelle replied, returning her smile and walking over to the myriad of mailboxes. Near the top of the left row of boxes, she saw her name and teaching assignment: Michelle Baron — Language Arts. A stack of papers rested inside. Included in the pile were her roll sheets, announcements for the week, and packets to give her first period students.

  As she flipped through the papers, the principal, Daniel Durand, walked up. His tall, stocky build and curly gray hair gave him the appearance of a retired athlete. “Good morning, Michelle.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Durand,” Michelle said, hugging the papers to her chest.

  “No ‘Mr. Durand’ stuff, please. You’ll make me feel old.” He gave her a warm smile and a friendly but innocent wink. “Just call me Dan.”

  Michelle blushed. “Okay, Dan.”

  “So, is there anything you need for your first day?” he asked.

  “I’m a bundle of nerves, but other than that, I think I’m ready,” she replied.

  He smiled again and reassured her that she would be fine once the day got under way. As they parted, Michelle headed out the office door and down the hall to her new classroom.

  Room 107. There it was. Michelle’s hand shook as she inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. The room looked great. All her hard work on bulletin boards and furniture arrangement had transformed the space from a dull shell into a bright, cheerful, and inviting haven. The freshly scrubbed carpet smelled of shampoo, and the desks waited eagerly for their occupants.

  She began sorting her papers on the table at the front of the room. In addition to the office handouts from her mailbox, she had her course syllabus and an outline of her behavior standards ready to give her new charges. The spelling books were stacked on the back counter beside the aging literature and grammar texts.

  So much to accomplish this first day! She went over the notes she had written on a large index card, and placed it securely on her podium. Today would set an important tone for the year ahead, and she was determined to make her students feel comfortable and at ease while maintaining an air of professionalism and respect.

  Cassandra Gibralter, her master teacher during the prior term of student teaching, had given her a wonderful example as well as some timely and treasured advice. “Always remember, Michelle, that you are not teaching curriculum, you are teaching students. They will look to you to be their guide and example, whether they’re willing to admit it or not.” Glancing over her syllabus for the last time, Michelle smiled to herself as she remembered those words.

  When her eyes came to rest on her behavior guidelines and standards, she could almost hear Mrs. G (the name the students fondly called their teacher) as she instructed Michelle. “You are not here to be their friend. Trust me, they have plenty of friends. What they need is your leadership and example, your encouragement to become the best men and women they can be. Sometimes this will mean you are not the most popular teacher, but you will become one of the most loved.”

  By the end of her semester as a student teacher, Cassandra’s words had unfolded as prophecy. The kids really did love her — even the ones who murmured about her strict rules or high expectations. Some of the most glowing remarks in her yearbook that June had come from the unexpected sources of the “troublemaking” kids. Michelle knew she was called to this ministry of teaching. She could almost feel God’s mantle of trust placed upon her shoulders this first day of work.

  A rap on the door revealed Mrs. G peeking in through the small window. Apparently Michelle had forgotten to turn the key to the unlock position when she’d entered the room. She hurried over and pulled the door open.

  “Michelle, everything looks great in here!” Cassandra said, smiling as her eyes surveyed the class.

  “Thanks, Mrs. G,” Michelle replied with a smile.

  “Cassie,” she corrected her, opening her arms and giving Michelle a hug. “You’ll be great this year,” she said warmly. “Well, I’d better scoot and make sure I’m ready when that bell rings.”

  “Okay. And thanks for coming by. I’m glad you’re right down the hall.”

  “Feel free to call me anytime, Michelle. I mean it. There are so many questions that arise in the first few days and weeks. I’m more than happy to help in any way I can.” With that, she gave Michelle’s arm a little squeeze and left the room.

  As Cassie exited, a young girl — who looked a little frightened and intimidated— peered in. “Are you Ms. Baron?” she asked softly.

  “I am. Are you in my class?” Michelle walked over to the girl, who was still holding the door open as if waiting to be invited inside.

  “Yes. First period.” The girl handed Michelle her schedule. Katy McGolderick. She looked too young for eighth grade, her short stature and slight frame topped by baby fine brown hair and enormous chestnut eyes.

  “Hi Katy. It’s nice to meet you,” Michelle said, extending her hand and giving the girl back her schedule.

  “Is it okay if I stay in here until the bell rings?” the timid girl asked as she looked around the room.

  “It’s fine. In fact, I could use your help.”

  Katy’s eyes lit up, and she smiled. “Sure. What can I do?”

  “See those spelling books on the back counter?”

  She looked back and nodded.

  “You can put one of them on each desk.”

  “Okay,” she replied, heading to the back of room.

  Michelle got her blank seating charts out of a folder and placed them on her podium. “Do you have a favorite place to sit, Katy?” she asked the girl, who was now busy dispersing spelling workbooks to the empty desks.

  “Not really. The front somewhere, I guess.”

  “The front it is then. I’ll put you up on the left side by the window, right across from my desk.”

  Katy smiled and set her backpack on the chair of that desk then returned to her task with the books. As she placed the last one on her own desk, the passing bell rang.

  Michelle walked to the door, opened it wide, and wedged the doorstop to hold it in place. Standing there, she greeted students who began streaming into the room.

  As the final few entered, the tardy bell rang. Michelle looked over the class. Thirty-six students filled the desks, many of their faces lit with anticipation. In that initial glance, she noticed a group at the back of the room, already slouching in their seats, eyes fixed on her as if to dare her to try to teach them anything that year. She made a mental note to disperse those students throughout the room when she made her official seating chart later in the week.

  Mrs. G taught her that it was best to let the kids sit wherever they wanted the first few days. It gave her a chance to see whom they already knew, and how they
naturally clustered into their cliques. This would be helpful information later.

  Michelle stepped to the podium and took a blank seating chart from the stack. “Welcome to room 107,” she began. “My name is Mrs. Baron.” She gestured to the board, which read:

  Mrs. Baron Room 107 Language Arts

  Then she asked them to check their schedules to make sure they were in the correct room.

  “While I’m taking roll, I’m going to pass around a blank seating chart, and I’d like you to write your first and last name on the square that represents the desk where you are currently sitting. This will be your seat assignment for the remainder of the week.”

  She handed the blank chart to Katy, who promptly wrote her name and passed it to the student behind her.

  Michelle called roll, making phonetic spelling notes beside the names she mispronounced as well as writing down any nicknames the students requested for themselves. She noticed that several of the students in the back row were chewing gum. Wondering to herself whether or not she should correct them on this violation of school rules, she heard Mrs. G’s voice in her mind. “The first week sets the tone in the room. If you let them get away with things the first week, they will expect that leniency in the future as well.”

  Without looking directly at the offenders, she said, “I’d like to start the year off with a brief overview of what we will be learning in language arts this year as well as the behavioral expectations I have for my students.”

  Standing at the front of each row, she counted out the syllabi and handed them to the students sitting in the front. As the kids began passing the handouts back through the rows, Michelle noticed that even the students who had been slouching in the back, leaned forward to receive the papers.

  “Let’s begin with an overview of the curriculum,” Michelle said as she held up one of the handouts and pointed to the front top section. Referring to her roll sheet, she randomly called on students to read the paragraphs that described the academic goals of the course, as well as the materials required and the reading list.