Chance Encounters - Ch. 16

From the rough draft of Chance Encounters by Pat Otterness

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

?Hope was up and breakfast was cooking when I got up. Skeeter was already in the kitchen, dressed for school, watching the pancake preparation. What a big change from the diet he had been experiencing only days before. Her cooking was what I liked best about my sister. I would have given the child cereal and milk. Instead, she had heaps of fried bacon and fresh blueberries on the table. Where had she found those? Hope and Hiram were food freaks. They shared foods without my knowledge. I no longer questioned it. I just enjoyed the bounty.

It takes a village to raise a child, I thought groggily, sitting there watching my sister help Skeeter in the best way she could. She had sacrificed herself for him last night on the altar of her personal dignity. Harm’s first impulse had been to offer himself up as a parent to this newly fatherless child. Even Chance had opened his heart to Skeeter through his all-too-vocal condemnation of Margo Finch. I quickly shut off this line of thought before I could reach the point of introspection. I wasn’t ready to examine my own feelings of inadequacy just yet. Instead, I finished my breakfast and headed for the back porch to feed my kitties.

I was halted in the doorway by a mound of damp retrievings. If any other dog had left them, I wouldn’t have been at all disturbed. Bones, after all, were a dog’s stock-in-trade. This pile of bones had “human” written all over them. Good dog? I thought. I apologized to the hungry kitties, closed the door, and made a quick call to Jordan.

“I’m leaving them untouched,” I told him after a brief conversation. “I need to drive Skeeter to school. I’ll tell you more when I get back.” His questions hung on empty air as I pushed the “off” button on my phone and headed back to the kitchen.

“Come on, Skeeter,” I said in a cheerful voice. “Time to face the dragons!” I stopped for a moment. As Skeeter headed outside, I warned Hope to stay off the back porch until Jordan arrived. “I’ll explain when I get back,” I said, escaping before she could ask the “why?” written all over her face.

Skeeter was looking decidedly nervous. “Do you know what a talisman is?” I asked him.

“A lucky charm? Like a rabbit's foot?” he asked.

“Sort of like that. A sacred item to ward off evil,” I told him as I drove towards the school. Something that boosts your courage when facing unknown terrors.”

“I need one of those today,” Skeeter said. He gave me a weak grin. “I’m pretty scared.”

“I thought you might be.” I parked in front of the school and turned to face him. I have a talisman for you today. You’ll need to turn it over to Jordan after school, though. I’m going to be in trouble for giving it to before he sees it. It might help you feel close to your dad.”

I pulled the zippered wallet from my pocket and put it in his hands.

“Dad's wallet?” he whispered. “Where did you find it?” He looked at me with awe. “Did you find Dad’s body?”

“You won’t believe this,” I told him,“but Wolf found it. He brought it to me from the lake late last night. Open it up.”

Skeeter unzipped the wallet. Tears welled up in his eyes at the sight of his father’s driver's license. He flipped through the other photos, stared for a moment, and then burst into loud sobs. “This is my mama,” he told me. I let him cry it out. As he cried, the tension dropped from his body. “Do I have to give this to Jordan?” he asked.

“Yes. Just for a little while. Then he’ll give it back to you to keep. I promise.”

Skeeter wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Okay,” he said, looking me in the eye. “I think you honor your promises.”

That arrow hit home, straight to the heart. ?He trusts me! What a beautiful gift. I brushed away some suspect moisture in my own eyes and opened my door. “Let’s get this show on the road, then,” I said.

We had reached school early enough to avoid having to walk the gauntlet of curious students that might otherwise have made this day more difficult for Skeeter. We headed straight for the principal’s office and were directed to Skeeter’s classroom.

Skeeter kept fingering his dad’s wallet. “Put that in your pocket,” I told him, “and keep it there. Don’t take it out for any reason.”

“Why not?” Skeeter objected.

“Because someone will see your interest in it and try to take it away from you,” I told him. “One of the first lessons you’ll learn about public school, Skeeter. You can’t afford to lose it, so don’t let anyone see it.”

“Yikes!” said Skeeter.

“The kids aren’t mean,” I said. “It’s a form of playfulness, but it can get out of hand. If they do take it, act like it’s not important. The more reaction they get from you, the worse it will be. They just want your attention.”

“Are all of them like that?” Skeeter paused in the doorway of the classroom.

“No, but be careful. Everyone who acts friendly doesn’t necessarily have good intentions. You’re going to be the subject of a lot of gossip when they find out about your dad.”

A figure came hurrying down the hall in our direction. “I think this might be your teacher,” I said.

“You must be Mrs. Chance,” said the young man, smiling.

“Miz, not Mrs,” I replied. “Call me Chat.”

“And this is Peter?” He turned his full attention towards Skeeter.

“Skeeter, sir,” corrected Skeeter. “Everyone calls me Skeeter.”

“But your given name is Peter?”

“Yes, sir. Peter Donkins.”

“I will address you as Peter, then,” concluded the teacher. “But I will tell your classmates to call you Skeeter. Will that work for you?”

Skeeter grinned. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Names are important,” said the teacher. “My name was almost Rumpelstiltskin.”

“You’re kidding!” exclaimed Skeeter, laughing.

“Not kidding, I’m sorry to say, but wiser heads prevailed, and my sister's choice was overridden.” He held out his hand. I’m your teacher, …Maximilian Brown.”

“You’re kidding,” laughed Skeeter.

“Nope. My sister was even less fortunate. Her name is Rapunzel. My friends call me Max.”

“Rapunzel?” said Skeeter, chuckling. “You must be joking, Max.”

“No joke, I’m afraid.” said the teacher. “And you will call me Mr. Brown. Chat can call me Max. It’s not personal. It’s a school thing.”

We entered the classroom and Skeeter was told to choose a seat. He looked around at all the desks and chose one near the front.

“A wise choice,” said Brown. “Close enough to see what is going on, but not so close that you isolate yourself from your classmates. For today, that will be your desk. After that, we’ll see if it works for you. You may have to fight the desk’s previous owner.”

“Fight?” said Skeeter, alarmed.

“Yes. She’s tough. She may not give it up cheerfully.”

“Max is teasing you, Skeeter,” I said. “If there’s any fighting, I’ll send a deputy to defend you. I think you’re in good hands here.”

“Before I go,” I told Brown,”I want you to know that Skeeter has been homeschooled so far. He doesn’t yet know the routines of a classroom. Go easy on him.”

“Skeeter will do just fine,” Brown assured me. I guarantee it.”

Somehow, I believed this funny man, this failed Rumpelstiltskin, when he reassured me. I gave Skeeter a hug and left him to spin his straw into gold.

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