My Little Rock Airman

by Brittany Fichter

  Not that it mattered. I was here to get a job that would pay for my master’s degree. And though I felt two hundred miles from home, rather than just fifteen minutes, I was here now. Besides, they had been the ones to offer me the job after all. So I took a deep breath, straightened my skirt, and smoothed my blouse before ringing the doorbell.

  The door opened, but instead of Mrs. Allen, I found myself face to face with a young man. His eye shape I recognized immediately, for they were the same as Jade’s. He had blue eyes, though, instead of her brown. A piercing ice blue with streaks of gold shooting out from the iris. His hair was shaved close to the sides of his head and a little longer on top, a cut my military students referred to as a high and tight. He had an angular face, clean-shaven, with prominent high cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose, and I quickly realized that he was possibly one of the most attractive men I had ever seen.

  He was also in camouflage pants and a sand-colored shirt. I wanted to sigh. So close.

  “Can I help you?” His voice was clear and his words crisp.

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I’m here to speak with Mrs. Allen about taking care of Jade this summer.” I hesitated when he didn’t open the door any wider or offer to let me in. “I’m Jade’s teacher. She said to come on the twenty-ninth…” My words hung in the air like icicles as I waited for him to respond.

  “I see,” he finally said, giving me a long look up and down, but it wasn’t the kind of appraising looks Madison sought when she dragged me around her favorite flashy bars. Rather, from the hardening of his expression, he looked as though he wasn’t about to let me in it all. But he finally did hold the door open and step to the side. “Have a seat on the couch please.”

  “Is Mrs. Allen here?” I looked around and tried to hide my awe. If it were possible, the interior of the house was even more luxurious than the exterior. The walls had been painted a relaxing shade of blue-gray, and the intricate crown molding above was white, as was everything else. White carpet, white couches, white throw pillows, even a white knitted blanket was draped across the couch. If the young man hadn’t let me inside, I would’ve wondered if I was even at Jade’s house at all. It didn’t appear to be the kind of place a six-year-old could possibly occupy. Nothing was out of place, and there weren’t any stains, not even below the knob on the door. I sat on the couch where the man had indicated. Surely now he would go get Mrs. Allen.

  I knew from our intervention meetings at school that Jade had at least three private therapists that she saw throughout the week during the school year, and with summer here, there was a good chance she would have even more starting soon. I had brought a pen and notebook in case I needed to create a schedule with all of Jade’s therapy locations and times. I pulled it out to prepare myself. But instead of calling for Mrs. Allen, he simply sat in the armchair across from me and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, studying me unabashedly.

  I tried not to squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze. “You must be Jade’s brother,” I said, immediately hating the way my voice wavered. What had Mrs. Allen said his name was?

  “I am.” He continued to stare at me then sat back. “So how many children with disabilities have you taught over the years?”

  I laughed nervously. “Well, privacy laws would prohibit me from telling you exactly who has what in terms of special needs, but I can say my time working with your sister has been one of my favorite parts of teaching this year.”

  “And how long have you been teaching?”

  I struggled to keep my smile in place. “This was my first year.” Well, this was certainly not going the way I’d expected it to. Why was he grilling me like a confirmed terrorist? Annoyance began to take the place of the attraction which had first struck me upon seeing him. Who cared if he was good-looking? He was really starting to get on my nerves. I tried again. Maybe I could distract him until Mrs. Allen arrived.

  “Your mother says you just moved back. Where did you live before this?”

  “Colorado.” He didn’t even blink. “What kind of background checks does the school district require?”

  “Um…” I tried to sift through my memory to all the paperwork I’d filled out the year before. “Fingerprinting. Federal checks. Stuff like that.” Distraction. I needed more distraction. “What do your parents do? I don’t think your mother ever mentioned it.”

  He snorted. “They own their own construction company.”

  Was that a bad thing? “Oh,” I tried to smile. “So that’s how your dad got the time off. That must be nice for them to be in charge of their own schedules.””

  “They can take time off whenever they want. They just choose not to. Now what about accreditation? Do you have any higher level accreditation for teaching children with special needs?”

  “I’m a general education teacher.” I squeezed the handles of my bag. “Jade is in a general education class because she’s capable of learning in that environment. But I have had training for teaching children with special needs, yes.” Two whole classes. But again, he didn’t need to know that.

  “So how many of your college classes covered teaching children with Down Syndrome?”

  I sat taller. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to get at, but I can assure you I’m perfectly aware of Jade’s needs. I can also assure you that she’s a very intelligent little girl. She actually completes much of her work along with her peers.”

  Instead of relaxing, though, his frown only deepened. “I understand that, but—”

  “Derrick!”

  I turned to see Mrs. Allen coming down the stairs. Thank goodness.

  “I said I wanted you to meet her, not interrogate her. Now quit grilling our guest, and go do something constructive.” She paused at the foot of the stairs and frowned. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No.” He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands then stood and stretched. As he stretched, I couldn’t help noticing the definition of his biceps. Not that I cared, of course. Derrick Allen might be nice to look at, but he had pushed nearly every button I had. He was in the military, too. Off-limits for sure.

  “Well,” Mrs. Allen said, shooing him away from the couch, “go find something to eat and then get some sleep. I’ll take it from here.” She gave him a good-natured shove when he didn’t move, and pointed at the entrance of what looked like a kitchen at the far end of the room. Then she took his seat and rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’ll have to forgive Derrick. He cares a lot about his sister. In fact, she’s the reason he moved back.”

  “I thought airmen didn’t get to pick where they go.” I let myself lean back into the couch a bit now that he was in the other room. When I glanced at the open door, though, I could see him leaning against the wall as he munched on a bowl of cereal. He wasn’t even bothering to hide his eavesdropping.

  “Oh, they usually don’t. But he knew someone who knew someone and was somehow able to get back here.” She threw up her hands. “I’m not sure of all the details. We’re just grateful to have him here for as long as he can stay. That’s not why you’re here, though.” She pulled a piece of paper from a folder she was holding and handed it to me. “She’s with her father right now at physical therapy. He and I both took a few days off to help while we switched caregivers, but she’ll be all yours next Monday. Now, if you look here,” she pointed to the spreadsheet, “we’ll need you at the house around seven in the morning. You’ll get her breakfast and help her get dressed and ready for the day. Therapy always starts at nine, so you’ll need to hurry her more on the days therapy is farther away.”

  I continued to smile and nod the best I could as Mrs. Allen went on, but I couldn’t silently help wondering if I was getting in over my head.

  “Physical therapy is on Mondays and Thursdays. Speech and occupational therapy are on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and horse-play Fridays. Horse-play is nearly an hour away, so you’ll need to make sure you build in enough time to get there.” Mrs. Allen pointed to the address labeled
in pink on the color-coordinated spreadsheet she’d given me. “Mr. Allen and I will give you a preloaded Visa card with enough money to pay for the gas as well as lunch since you won’t be able to return home in time to eat most days.”

  As she went on to explain that speech and occupational therapy were across town from one another, I began to pray that my car would last through all the extra miles. That, and that I could learn to ignore the eyes I felt studying me from the kitchen.

  “Naps are at two, and her piano teacher will be here by four on Thursdays. We should be home around four as well, but she needs to be ready so our arrival doesn’t distract her. And of course,” Mrs. Allen smiled, “we’re hoping that you’ll be able to prepare her for first grade in your free time as well.” Her eyes flicked from the schedule to me. “Do you have any questions?”

  I wanted to ask when this poor child got any time to be a kid, but that was sure to go over poorly with my new employers. So instead, I grinned and tucked the paper into my bag. “No, I think this is quite eno—”

  “I still don’t see why I can’t just take her myself.” Derrick walked out of the kitchen, with his cereal bowl.

  “Because you have to sleep sometime,” Mrs. Allen said as she also handed me a stack of brightly colored papers. The sticky note on the top said Therapy Resources. Oh, goody. More homework.

  “What year is your car?” He was peeking through the blinds at the driveway.

  “Um…it’s eight years old. Why?”

  He looked at his mother. “My truck has more safety features.”

  “Fine then, son.” Mrs. Allen threw up her hands and stood with a huff. “Have it your way. You want to run yourself ragged? Drive them around. Be their chauffeur.”

  “Fine then. I will.” He raised his chin.

  She crossed her arms and glared up at him. “But Miss Nickleby is starting next Monday. And that’s final.”

  I looked back and forth between them. “So,” I stood slowly, “am I still—”

  He gave me a sardonic grin. “Guess you and I will be spending the summer together.”

  I could only stare back. Fantastic.

  4

  Playing Hero

  Derrick

  As soon as Jessie Nickleby was gone, I followed my mom back into the kitchen.

  “I still don’t understand why you need to hire someone else to take care of her.” I crossed my arms and leaned back against the table. “That’s what I moved back here for.”

  “And we’re so happy you did,” Mom said with her usual infuriating condescension. “And now you and Miss Nickleby can make Jade’s life even better this summer together.”

  “I mean it, Mom. I had to pull a lot of strings to get here. I didn’t risk my career to play babysitter for an hour a day. I came to be a part of Jade’s—”

  “Derrick.” Mom put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you want to be a part of Jade’s life. But the fact of the matter is that as long as you’re off playing hero, you’re going to leave sooner or later.”

  I gritted my teeth and did my best to ignore the jab at my career. That was another argument for another day. Or for every day, as soon as my dad got home from work.

  “And,” Mom continued, gathering up the apples she’d just taken from the crisper, “I can’t have her completely dependent on you as long as you’re going to be moving one day. And even if you weren’t in the military, do you have a degree in elementary education?”

  “I was in college,” I mumbled, studying the apple I’d swiped. “Doesn’t that count?”

  “So you took college-level education methods courses then?”

  “She’s going from kindergarten to first grade. How many summer courses does one have to take to play chauffeur?”

  “Don’t get smart with me.” She began to chop the apples and put them in a mixing bowl. “You like to have fun. You always have.”

  “I got salutatorian.”

  “And you could have been valedictorian if you’d tried harder. And you would have finished college.”

  “What’s your point, Mom?”

  “My point,” she said, wiping her hands off on a towel, “is that you always learned easily, even if you didn’t study. But Jade learns differently from you. She has to try a lot harder. Now you don’t see that because every chance you get, you’ve got her at the zoo or the ice cream parlor or whatever new shiny thing has caught your eye.”

  “Because learning can come from more than a book.” I took a bite of my apple and immediately cringed. Why did my mother insist on buying green? No matter how many times I tried them, they were always bad. “Especially,” I spat the bite into the trash and put the apple back on the cutting board, “if book learning is hard. And geez, Mom. You schedule every waking moment of her entire life. If I don’t sneak her out of your color-coordinated prison every now and then, she’ll never have time to just be a kid!”

  “Prison!” My mom let out a laugh. “If you want to call her life skill therapies prisons, then go ahead. Look, I don’t know why this is such a big deal to you. The state’s done a better background check than we ever could.”

  “That.” I pointed. “That is exactly what I’m talking about. You want to know why I moved back here? Why I’m being cautious? Because you’re not.”

  She put down the knife. “That’s not fair.”

  “Well, it wasn’t fair when you hired that nincompoop last spring and Jade was the one who paid the price.”

  “Derrick Allen.” My mother’s eyes darkened. “That is enough. What happened was not your father’s fault or mine.”

  I rubbed my eyes. More sleep was required for these conversations. I turned and headed back to the casita to change.

  “Where are you going?” She sounded peeved, but I didn’t turn.

  “I’m going to go on a run.”

  “Don’t you need to sleep?” she called after me as I stalked out of the kitchen.

  “I’m not tired.”

  My body begged to differ. As soon as I shut the casita door, my arms screamed at me to lie down. In our search for a missing tool the night before, I’d moved boxes that were probably only meant for two or more people to carry. But I wanted to go home, so I’d moved them anyway, and now everything hurt. My mind, however, was far too wired to rest. I would have to clear my head. Then maybe I would be able to sleep.

  I changed into basketball shorts and my favorite, beat-up hockey t-shirt and headed outside, pausing only to put my earbuds in and turn them up as loud as they would go. Then I set off.

  I didn’t particularly enjoy running in my parents’ neighborhood with its perfect brick houses and perfectly manicured yards and copious supply of expensive cars. People waved in response whenever I passed, but everyone, including me, seemed to sense that I fit into this neighborhood about as well as my truck. Pretty much the same way I’d fit in at Harvard.

  I turned a corner and nearly ran into another runner, this one a young woman. Her hair was nearly the same shades of gold and brown as Jessica Nickleby’s, and I immediately felt a twinge of guilt. Could I have been nicer to her? Most definitely. After all, it wasn’t her fault my parents had asked for help. And in all honesty, they could have done much worse. A certified teacher would have the basic federal background checks and fingerprints and all that, so at least she wasn’t likely to be a serial killer.

  She was also exceptionally pretty. I’d been genuinely surprised when she showed up on my parents’ front step, so much so that I nearly forgot how to respond when I’d opened the door. She was petite, a little on the short side, her hair in messy, large curls that reached just to her shoulders. When Mom had told me about Jade’s teacher, I’d envisioned a matronly woman with too many cats, writing up worksheets for a hobby, rather than a young woman with vibrant green eyes.

  Amy. I should call Amy to get my head sorted out. My recent schedule change that had me working nights instead of days was still messing with my ability to think straight, and
my fiancée was a good voice of objectivity. I appreciated that about her, her ability to see things without emotion coloring her judgment. I came to a stop at a little neighborhood park and collapsed on a bench beneath a large tree.

  The phone rang six times then went to voicemail. Sighing, I pushed myself off the bench and starting running again.

  5

  We’d Hoped

  Jessie

  “Hey, Mom! Dad! I’m home!” I hung my purse and keys up on a peg just inside the door. Then I paused and inhaled deeply before heading for the kitchen. “It smells good in here.”

  “Thanks. It’s a new candle scent I thought I’d try.” My mom picked up the little pink candle and examined it as I walked in. “It’s supposed to be sweet pea, but I think it’s more like peach.” She brushed a piece of caramel-colored hair away from her eyes. “Where have you been? I thought you were done in your classroom yesterday. I have a whole list of errands we need to run, and I’m going to need your help with planning the church bake sale. Oh, and I forgot. Dr. Neilson wants me to come in again next week.”

  I froze. “Why?”

  “Oh, don’t look like that. It’s just something about bloodwork. Nothing to worry about. I just needed to know if you wanted to come along.”

  “Sure thing.” I forced myself to smile, as though this didn’t shake me to the core. “And I’m all done at school.” I helped myself to a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge then drank in small, measured sips, trying to come up with how to word what I was about to tell my mother. But there was no way around it. This wasn’t going to thrill them no matter how I put it. Finally, I put the cup down and stared at it. “You know the little girl I told you about at school?” I asked slowly. “The one with Down Syndrome.” If I played the sympathy card first, maybe my parents wouldn’t mind so much.