Three Days on Mimosa Lane (A Seasons of the Heart Novel)

by Anna DeStefano

  Cade nodded.

  She looked so pretty, like she always did. Except now she was at school, so everyone else could see how pretty she was. Something in Cade’s chest swelled up. He peeked back around the door. She was arranging her brownies and other people’s stuff on the bake sale table, like she did things like that every day.

  What if something he said scared her? Then everyone else would be watching them while she was upset, and she wouldn’t like that. She hated when people stared at her like she was broken or something. She’d probably want to go home then.

  He had a cool family, even if dealing with them was a pain sometimes. But not today. Today his mom was going to stay. She and Dad had promised she’d be there for him and Joshua. They’d promised everything was going to keep getting better.

  “Let’s get to class.” He ran toward the stairway to the second floor.

  “What about Troy?” Nate called after him. They took the steps together, two at a time.

  “We’ll stick close to him at lunch.” Cade had been worried about lunch all morning. Now he couldn’t wait—forget Troy’s stupid plan to be Bubba’s punching bag. This was going to be the best lunch ever, because his mom would be there. “Even if we have to sit on Troy the whole time, we’ll keep him away from Bubba.”

  Chapter Three

  “Let me help you,” Kristen Hemmings said.

  It was the second lunch period of the day, and Cade and Joshua Perry’s mom was trying to set to right a bake sale serving dish that had fallen over, the one her extra-large, extra-fudgy brownies were on. Only Mrs. Perry’s hands were shaking so badly, she’d knocked it over again. Sam had stayed all morning like a trouper, much longer than anyone had expected, and Kristen had stuck as close to her as possible. The other woman’s nerves seemed to fray a bit more with each passing minute.

  “If the noise is getting to be too much,” Kristen said, helping re-sort the treats on the tray, “why don’t you take a break for a few minutes?”

  The sweet woman had had a smile ready for everyone who’d approached her, even the adults who’d nosily asked how she was doing and whether or not she thought she’d be able to participate in this or that volunteer activity next, now that she was out and about. But in the last half hour she’d started to fade. She’d begin sentences that skidded to a halt before she finished, with Sam turning her face away in embarrassment, as if she’d forgotten what she was talking about. Her hands shook each time she picked something up to serve to one of the kids, or to restock the ever-dwindling array of goodies the PTA was selling to raise money for the spring carnival.

  Kristen had watched Sam brace herself for each boisterous wave of kids who swarmed the bake sale. The classes took turns buying treats at the beginning and end of their lunch periods. But the orderly process didn’t dampen the students’ enthusiasm to be first in line, and to inspect and ask questions about everything before they decided what to buy. And Sam seemed to have reached her limit. She clearly would be more at ease hiding beneath the folding table they’d dragged in from the storage closet than she was smiling across it at her next sugar-crazed customer.

  “Really.” Kristen looked around for another mother to fill in. “It’s fine if—”

  “No.” Sam squared her shoulders and brushed at the crumbs she’d scattered across the lemon-yellow tablecloth. Then she handed a brownie to the next student in line, Sally Beaumont, the sixth grader rumor had it was wanting to be Cade Perry’s steady, if the boy ever took it upon himself to notice. “Not today. No breaks today.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Perry,” Sally said. She gave Cade’s mom her fifty cents and grinned extra wide. “It’s great to see you here. I know Cade’s excited about it.”

  Sam nodded and rearranged the treats on her platter, until Mrs. Baxter’s class headed back to their table so another group could have their turn. Sally sat beside Cade, who hadn’t yet come over to see his mom. He laughed at something Sally said, and then turned back to Troy Wilmington, who was sulking between Cade and Nate Turner. Nate leaned across Troy to say something to Cade, his mouth full of pizza.

  Sam watched the exchange with obvious longing. She’d been trying to catch her son’s eye ever since Mrs. Baxter’s class had arrived a few minutes ago.

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “Cade is super excited that I’ve crawled out of my cave and into the daylight. After everything I’ve put him through, it’s a wonder he wants me here at all.”

  When Kristen glanced at her companion, she realized that Sam had been talking to herself. Kristen watched her press a hand to her chest, just above her heart, as she stared at her oldest son.

  “Maybe he’s trying not to make this any harder for you than it already is,” Kristen said. Knowing what the other woman had fought her way back from, she couldn’t imagine a child not being proud of having a mother like her.

  “More likely”—Sam shot her a grateful if rueful look—“he’s waiting for me to do something to embarrass him. His father and I were even teasing him about it this morning.”

  Kristen had caught Cade watching his mom a time or two, only to glance away before Sam saw him. Kristen hated that the Perry family was still struggling. This was none of her business, but she couldn’t stop herself from at least trying to make things easier in some small way.

  “I think he’ll be proud of you one day, if he isn’t already,” she said. “Especially once he knows the whole story. I’m guessing he doesn’t yet. Does he?”

  “About me?” Sam shook her head, frowning. “He knows enough.”

  “You’ve talked with him about what you went through on 9/11, and why? All the young lives you protected that day, and why things have been so hard for you ever since?”

  The other woman looked downright puzzled.

  “Why would I burden him like that?” Sam asked. “He doesn’t need to know that I spent that entire day trying to reassure terrified children that everything was all right, when I knew most of their parents were never coming home. Or that I and the teachers I worked with had to walk those babies out of Manhattan, through the dust and dirt and pieces of the World Trade Center that had crumbled down on top of the city, only to wait in Queens all night with them, wondering if they had family coming to pick them up. We wanted to run screaming from what happened and never look back…”

  She looked around them, as if horrified that the memories that had been troubling her all morning had slipped free. When she realized no one but Kristen was listening, Sam shook her head at herself or Kristen or both of them, determination smoothing every other emotion from her expression.

  “Cade has enough on his plate,” she said, “dealing with having me for a mom. He doesn’t need to know all the gory details about how brutal this world can be.”

  She walked away and another parent filled in, selling one of Sam’s gourmet brownies to a sixth grader pulling a crumpled dollar bill from his jeans pocket. Kristen caught Cade watching his mother’s sudden departure.

  He watched until she disappeared into the kitchen, then stared down at his lap. Sally said something in his ear and he laughed again. He grinned at her in a way that looked more sad than happy.

  Kristen followed Sam through the kitchen and out the back door to the parking lot, where the trucks pulled up each morning to deliver produce and other groceries in bulk. She had no idea whether she was making things better or worse. But she’d promised Mallory she’d do the best she could to keep an eye on Sam, amidst the rest of Kristen’s daily responsibilities. And even if she hadn’t talked with her clinic nurse, she wouldn’t have been able to help herself after what she’d just seen.

  She couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been for Sam to be here this morning, after so many failed attempts in the past to be part of her children’s lives. It was troubling to see such a gifted teacher and loving mother so isolated from the world. From the first moment Kristen had heard the Perrys’ story, she’d vowed to help somehow.

  She found Sam with her back to the building�
�s redbrick façade, bent at the waist, her hands on her knees and her head down, breathing deeply. Someone passing by might think she was physically ill, rather than suffering from one of the panic attacks that rumors said she endured most every time she ventured out into their community.

  “I don’t think it would be a burden to Cade”—Kristen stepped to Sam’s side—“to know all that happened that day and how it’s still hurting you. It might help him understand how bravely you’re fighting your way back. It might help all of you if you’d talk about it and—”

  “All of us?” Her companion stood and braced a hand against the side of the building. “Have you noticed Cade having problems? Is he—”

  “Cade’s fine.”

  Get a grip, Kristen!

  She was better with people than this. An ace. An MVP at relating and understanding and staying calm, no matter the situation or the players.

  But this beautiful, brave, broken woman had rattled her from the first parent-teacher night Kristen had supervised at Chandler three years ago. Sam had tried to be there for Cade then, too. After only a half hour, the entire family had headed home amidst a flood of avid interest from other parents and kids. Kristen had watched Cade drag along behind his parents, confused and embarrassed.

  Kristen had indulged in school gossip that night, when she normally shoved it away like the deadly virus it could be. She’d quickly realized who Sam was, and she’d been in awe of the woman ever since. Even before Mallory’s request, Kristen had cleared as much of her schedule as she could to help with today’s bake sale. Sam needed a successful experience at Chandler. Her sons and the entire school community needed her to have a good day—so she’d come back again and do even more next time.

  “If Cade’s fine…” Sam’s voice cracked. She cleared it. “If my son is fine, why would talking to him help ‘all of us’?”

  “He… misses you when you don’t make it to school activities.” Kristen had felt for him with every flash of sadness she’d seen cross his normally happy expression, especially when some well-meaning adult would ask after his mother. “And I wonder whether he’s more aware already of what you’re going through than you and your husband give him credit for. Kids are alarmingly intuitive emotional barometers.”

  “Yeah, well…” Sam wiped at her eyes with the heels of each palm. The woman’s porcelain complexion meant she didn’t need to wear a stitch of makeup to enhance her natural beauty. Otherwise she’d have mascara smeared everywhere by now. “Missing me has been better for Cade than watching me come unglued in front of his friends every time we’re in a crowd of people, or indoors somewhere besides our house. Or, God forbid, in his school, like today. Selling brownies. He can’t even count on me to get through selling brownies… It’s better, the less he knows about why his mom is so messed up.”

  “Is it?”

  “Is it what?”

  “Is it better for him not to have the chance to admire you for who you really are?”

  “Ms. Hemmings…”

  “Kristen, please.”

  “Kristen.” Sam’s voice was shaking, like the rest of her. “I’m sure you mean well, but you can’t possibly understand what’s going on, and—”

  “You’ve been a hero for me for twelve years, Mrs. Perry.” If nothing else, Kristen wanted to say what she’d longed to since that first parent-teacher night. “Before either one of us moved to Georgia. I was in school, thinking about what program to pursue with the master’s degree I wanted, and I read the interview you gave after 9/11. From then on, I’ve committed myself to making the kind of difference in a child’s life that you and the rest of those teachers did for your students at Ground Zero.”

  It felt like disappearing, Sam had said to the reporter. Like the buildings were gone, and my students’ families were gone, and the New York we’d all loved was gone. But we couldn’t let our kids down. We had to keep them calm and get them off the island and give them hope… somehow. All day, all night. The teachers waited, desperate for good news. And each time it didn’t come, whenever a family was reunited but it wasn’t a parent who collected a child, we all disappeared just a little more…

  Sam straightened away from the building, as if Kristen’s memories had slapped her across the face. Her eyes glistened, diamonds gathering. Demons. How long had it been since this woman had talked with anyone about that day?

  “You…” She defiantly blinked her emotion away. “You read my interview with the Times?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kristen reached out her hand. “And you were my inspiration to become a primary school teacher.”

  Sam shook her hand briefly. She curled her arms around her petite body.

  “Thank you,” she said in a timid way that belied how utterly courageous she was.

  “Thank you,” Kristen replied, “on behalf of all those families. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Mrs. Perry, even if it’s just sharing my story and your role in it with Cade, I’d be more than happy to. I’d be honored.”

  “Sam.” A more genuine smile bloomed across the other woman’s delicate features. “I’d be very pleased if you’d call me Sam.”

  “Cade and Joshua will know you’re a hero one day, Sam. And that will make days like today disappear for them. You’ll see.”

  Sam shook her head again, but she was still smiling a little. “Not if I can’t stop being terrified of ridiculous things like brownies. Because you know how scary chocolate and kids eating lunch can be…”

  Kristen chuckled. “I was ready to find somewhere to hide myself. They just keep coming. I don’t know what we’d do if we ran out of treats to feed them. Sugar is a dangerous, dangerous drug.”

  Sam gazed at the door leading to the kitchen. “He’s waiting for me to come back. Even if he pretends he’s cool with whatever happens, I know he’s watching and waiting and expecting me to bail again, to not be here for him.”

  Kristen motioned for Sam to precede her into the kitchen. “Then let’s show him what you’re made of. Just do what you need to, and we’ll make it look good. Offense was my specialty in basketball. Still is in school. Otherwise the inmates will think they’re running the asylum.”

  Sam laughed again. Kristen opened the door to the kitchen, and they were about to walk inside when the sound of angry shouting erupted from the direction of the cafeteria, followed by an earsplitting explosion. A loud bang. Then another.

  They both froze.

  Kristen had heard those sounds before. On TV. In movies.

  But that wasn’t possible here.

  Not at Chandler.

  “Was that…” Sam’s hand flew to her mouth as kids and adults began screaming inside.

  Kristen, momentarily paralyzed by the impossibility of what she knew had happened, released the door’s handle and rushed inside.

  “Stay here,” she ordered without looking back. “You’re safest in the parking lot.”

  But Sam was right behind her. Brushing past her. Running toward the sound of another gunshot.

  Cade, was all Sam could think. Where’s Cade?

  This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be happening again—the world, her entire life, crumbling before her eyes.

  She and Kristen raced through the kitchen. Sam reached the cafeteria first on legs she once more couldn’t feel. Kristen stopped in front of her. Sam skidded to a halt behind the assistant principal.

  “Oh my God,” Kristen said.

  “No…” Sam peered around the six-foot-two ex–college basketball star, refusing to accept the sight before her.

  “Mom!” Cade cried from somewhere Sam couldn’t see.

  Troy Wilmington pivoted away from a crowd of terrified kids and aimed the pistol he was holding in Kristen and Sam’s direction.

  “Get down!” Sam tackled the taller woman.

  They hit the ground hard. The sound of a gunshot ripped through the screams and sobs and mayhem around them. A bullet shattered the cinder block wall next to where they’d been standing
. Her ears ringing, Sam fought the panic sucking her away from what was happening. She shook her head to clear it.

  This wasn’t happening. Not again. Not like this.

  Cade.

  She took off in a crawler’s version of a sprint, slinking toward the freaked-out eleven-year-old who was screaming now, still waving a gun.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Troy said, and she had no idea whether he was talking to her, to one of the other adults, or to the kids he was threatening. “I didn’t mean to shoot again. I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I mean it, Cade. Don’t mess with me, man.”

  Cade!

  Her son was still okay.

  He had to be okay.

  Sam crawled past crying, shaking kids and teachers and parents who’d plastered themselves to the floor.

  “Get out of here,” she whispered as she moved forward. “Behind me. Ms. Hemmings is back there. There’s a door through the kitchen to the parking lot. Stay down, crawl, but go! Don’t stop until you’re outside. Go!” she whisper-yelled.

  She was ranting and half shoving people behind her, not looking to see what the AP was doing, but hoping the younger woman was keeping her head about her and dragging parents and kids out of harm’s way. It was what Sam should be doing. What she and all teachers in New York had been trained to do in a crisis, long before potential shootings had become a threat to the rest of the nation.

  But all Sam could focus on now was her son.

  Cade’s name kept repeating in her mind. Images replayed of him as a baby and a toddler and then a young boy. Moments in time she’d never get back, then moments in the future that could be lost forever if she didn’t do something to save him. His high school graduation. College. Marriage. Babies of his own.

  God couldn’t be that cruel. He wouldn’t take all of that away from a life so young and innocent. Except Sam knew death could be just that random and merciless.

  Well, not again.

  Not this time.

  Not to her family.

  Where was Cade? Was he still with Troy? They’d been sitting together eating lunch when Sam left the bake sale. And now Troy was trying to hurt the other kids? Troy Wilmington—sweet, shy, awkward Troy—had a gun. What the hell was going on?