Lost And Found

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

One Year Later

Maggie stood in the hallway of Westwood Elementary School behind Mrs. Johnson, the special education teacher. She listened as the woman reprimanded two mothers, Angie and Jean, on their choice of therapy for their special needs children. Maggie scrunched her nose and gazed upward.

Give us a break, she thought. How dare this woman publicly humiliate Maggie’s friends, fellow parents? Angie was slim, with curves in all the right places, and could be quite the knockout when she put some effort into it, but she chose to play it down. She tied her long hair back, and threw on a pair of glasses instead of wearing contacts over her big blue eyes. Jean was older, plump, short and always stood as if she had a hunch in her back. Both women remained silent as Mrs. Johnson continued to criticize.

Angie glanced at Maggie, her lips twitched as if struggling to hide her smile. Maggie couldn’t help herself. She needed to lighten the moment, so she tossed her head side to side, mimicking the woman’s tirade. It was so unlike her to pull these childish pranks, but Mrs. Johnson had pushed Maggie’s buttons one too many times.

They stood ten feet from the open door of Ryley’s fifth-grade classroom. Jean’s brown eyes widened, and her mouth opened, but nothing came out. When Angie’s eyes went from amazement to horror, Maggie stopped and slowly turned until she was face to face with Jacob Peterman, the tall, hunky principal. His gray-blue eyes narrowed, and Maggie felt her face burn. How long had he been there, and how much of the entertaining display had he seen? Maggie cleared her throat and swallowed hard. She tried to say something but closed her mouth when no reasonable words came to mind. She was aware of an awkward, old feeling, one she’d last felt in high school, the kind of moment you never wanted to relive again.

“Oops, caught red handed,” she said, giggling. Where in the hell did that come from?

Even Jacob Peterman couldn’t keep a straight face; his stern lips twitched.

Maggie realized that she had changed. Not overnight, but gradually … to the point that everyone around her commented on it. She used to be quiet and reserved, pausing first before speaking careless words. Now she felt as if all she ever said was

“I’m sorry” over and over. She wondered if that was what happened when life dumped all its crap on your plate and said, “Deal, baby.” Maybe that was what gave her the courage to grin brightly now. Well, what’s the worst that can happen? I can get banned from the school. Jacob’s eyes appeared to soften as he took in everyone with a steadfast glance, and that was when Maggie realized no one was talking.

Mrs. Johnson filled more space than a lot of women. Tall and wide, her self-righteous expression spurred anger inside Maggie. She silently prayed Jacob had heard Mrs. Johnson’s tirade. She blinked as her mind fogged again.

What started this? Ah, yes… The school didn’t have the funding needed to support all these kids with neurological disorders. Children could no longer be tagged “learning disabled.” Mrs. Johnson’s tirade had begun: “If I give to you, I have to take away from another child.”

From her talks with him, Maggie knew Jacob believed the public education system needed a serious overhaul. Credible therapy with trained aides who understood each child’s individual needs were needed. Instead, they had the present “cookie-cutter” therapy thinking—one size fits all. But sadly, politics, unions and reporting lines came before the best interest of the child. As the commander and chief of this elementary school, Jacob was over everybody … except Mrs. Johnson. The Special Needs Department reported to the district head office, and there was little Jacob could do about her attitude other than continue to override her decisions.

Maggie wasn’t sure what to do as she gazed into his dark eyes. Gray tinged the sides of his dark brown hair, which actually made him sexier. The lines around his eyes and his slightly tanned complexion linked him to his Mediterranean ancestry. He was tall, at six-feet two, and was wearing a short-sleeved baby blue dress shirt with a red silk tie.

Maggie opened her mouth to break the silence. “Ah…” That was it, the sum of any intelligent response she could muster. Maggie glanced at Jean and Angie, standing behind Mrs. Johnson who, with her arms crossed, squinted down at Maggie, her rosy lips a tight thin line. But all Maggie could see was the woman’s heavy eyebrows, which appeared to be one thick caterpillar.

“Am I interrupting something?” Jacob’s tone was quiet but firm, more a statement than a question. Maggie jumped and again faced Jacob just as he swept his flattened hand past Jean, Angie and her, looking at each of them in turn. He then directed what appeared to be his stern principal gaze at Mrs. Johnson. “I presume

you’re ensuring these ladies receive the assistance they need?” One of his dark eyebrows rose, giving a look that demanded an answer.

A telltale pink colored Mrs. Johnson’s round cheeks. Her curt nod was awkward as she crossed her arms over her large chest. Tension nipped the cool, sterile air. Maggie’s underarms were damp as she waited for panicked outbursts from Jean and Angie. This had been Maggie’s idea: “Let’s have a meeting, power in numbers. We’ll confront her with our issues and the lack of support for the kids.” As she stood there, waiting, she imagined their confessions.

Each of their kids needed support at school. Jean’s son, Adam, had been diagnosed with Asperger’s, ADHD and Mild Intellectual Disability. He fell just above the acceptable limits for the school, so he did not qualify for full child support. Angie’s adopted daughter, Sammy, had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Ryley, however, was just a typical boy; unable to grasp auditory teaching in the large class. If Maggie asked him what the teacher said, what he had learned on any day, his response was always the same: “I don’t know.”

She imagined the cruel accusation forming in Mrs. Johnson’s eyes: Why are you here? You have no right to be here with these parents. Ryley doesn’t qualify for services. Lily would have—she was autistic. So, again, why are you wasting my time?

A desperate fight had been stoked deep inside Maggie. She understood now what was at stake for these parents. Early intervention was key. Why hadn’t she seen that with Lily? This obsession with helping others was what kept her sane now. Every day, she fixated on what she could have done differently. If she had done something, would Lily be here in this school today?

Her mind drifted a lot these days, but when she looked back at Jacob, he crossed his arms and turned that stern principal gaze on her. She didn’t know how long he’d watched her. Then, as if she were a recalcitrant child, he ordered, not asked, “Maggie, I’ll speak with you in my office now.”

Maggie glanced at Jean and Angie before following Jacob. When they rounded the corner, he slowed his pace and stepped beside her into his office, closing the door behind them.

“Take a seat.” He gestured to one of two chairs in front of his desk.

Maggie’s insides withered. She tried to swallow past the golf ball–sized lump wedged in her throat. Her hands trembled, so she clasped them together and wedged them between her knees.

Jacob smiled warmly, kindly, as he rested his forearms on the desk. “Do you want to explain to me what that was all about?”