Home to Stay by Maryann Jordan

4

The morning sun beamed down on the one-story, red brick elementary school building, sending shards of memories through John’s mind as he sat in the parking lot. Right after his mother had left, his father had brought him to Maine while he was deployed. Lonely, nervous, and heartbroken over his parents’ split, he had wanted to hold his grandmother’s hand as they walked inside to register for school. But as a fifth-grader he’d been too old to reach for her, instead pulling himself up and settling what he hoped was a don’t-mess-with-me expression on his face.

He hadn’t needed the shield as the year had passed pleasantly. A good teacher who took him under her wing and taught him to love literature. A few close friends. Joining a baseball team. His grandmother’s cookies. And even his stalwart, mostly silent grandfather who let him know he always had a home with them.

Middle school had been spent in a DOD school with his dad until his death, and he’d come back to Maine for high school.

He continued to stare out the windshield. Additions had been built onto the back and side of the elementary school, and new outdoor play equipment sat inside a fenced area. A larger fence now encompassed the entire area, and prominent signs directing all visitors to enter through the front and check in at the office were visible even from where he sat.

Glancing at his watch, he wondered if this was a good time to visit. Maybe he should go back to Gramps’ place and keep working for a few more days. The last couple of weeks had been spent finding multiple tasks to accomplish under the watchful eye of his grandfather, who pretended he was offering the jobs to John just to keep him busy. He snorted, shaking his head. Gramps can’t do the work but wants his hand in things.

He had replaced most of the planks on the front porch, making sure the steps were secure. The front and back screen doors had been repaired, their hinges oiled and latches now catching when closed. The drip in the upstairs bathroom sink and the leak under the kitchen sink had been halted with a few twists of a plumber’s wrench.

In making his way through the old house, he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in better shape than he’d originally feared. When he expressed this to Gramps, he’d stood fast as his grandfather snapped back. “You think I’d live in a dump? I’ll have you know that this house is as sturdy as the day it was built. Just a few little things needed tweaking, that’s all!”

While he wasn’t sure that Gramps’ household assessment was entirely correct, he felt better about where they were living now that he’d had a chance to fix some of the most obvious repairs.

The sound of a bell ringing jolted his thoughts back to the task at hand—going inside to visit Ms. Carrington’s fifth-grade class. Dreading it, his cheeks puffed as he blew out a tremendous breath. Man up, Roster. Take one for the team. He threw open the door. Yeah, if my team could see me now, cowering outside, terrified of a bunch of ten-year-olds.

He walked to the front door and pulled it open, surprised to see that it took him directly to a glassed-in vestibule that led him to the front office only. Once inside, there was a long counter with two secretarial desks behind and a hall that allowed him to see several open office doors. A woman sat behind the counter, a smile on her face.

“Hello, may I help you?”

Having expected to just walk in and find the classroom, he blinked, shocked at the obvious security.

“Uh… yes, ma’am. Uh…”

She kept a polite smile on her face, but her gaze flicked over his large frame and her posture stiffened slightly. Not wanting her to be afraid or call the police, he rushed, “I’m here to visit Ms. Carrington’s class.”

“And your name, please?”

“John. John Roster. Um… Sergeant John Roster.”

Her gaze dropped to a computer screen before returning to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t see you on the visitor list. Is she expecting you?”

“Uh… no. I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know I needed to make arrangements.” He turned to leave, torn between gratitude that he could put the visit off and frustration to have to come back another day.

“Wait, please.”

At the sound of the authoritative voice, he turned to locate the source. A tall woman walked from the back hall, her clear-eyed gaze taking him in. “I’m the principal, Ms. Trafalgar. You’re the soldier that Ms. Carrington’s class has been corresponding with, I believe.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I understand you also attended this elementary school?”

“Only for one year, ma’am, when I lived with my grandparents. I did attend the local high school.”

Her smile widened, dropping only slightly when her gaze landed on his scar. “Welcome back home, Sergeant Roster. We thank you for your service.”

Dipping his chin in acknowledgment, he waited, uncertain.

Ms. Trafalgar looked at the clock on the wall and said, “Ms. Carrington has about thirty minutes until music. I think that her class would be more than excited to meet you in person.” She turned to the receptionist. “Would you have him sign in and then call for an escort?”

“Certainly.” The receptionist’s smile was now just as welcoming. “I just need your driver’s license, please. And once I check you in, I’ll have you sign the visitor’s log.”

He handed over his license, surprised a moment later when she peeled off a sticker that included his photo and license number along with the date, time, and the classroom he was visiting.

“I didn’t expect this kind of security,” he mumbled. “It’s as tight as a military base.”

“Oh, I know.” She nodded in sympathy. “But schools nowadays have to be so careful.”

After a moment, he looked over his shoulder as Ms. Carrington walked through the door, recognizing her from the photograph. Grey hair, round cheeks, huge smile.

She beamed, her eyes twinkling as she clapped her hands. “Oh, Sergeant Roster, what a treat. Please come with me.”

He offered a slight smile and followed dutifully as they made their way down the brightly colored hall, the walls covered with the artwork of the students.

“The students will be so excited. We had no idea you were coming.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Carrington. I should have contacted you to see if this was all right.”

Her round, rosy-cheeked face whipped around as she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Oh, but I’m not Ms. Carrington. I’m the class aide, Mrs. Farthingale.”

His feet stuttered to a halt, his brow knit. “I’m sorry? But you were in the photograph…”

“Oh, my gracious! I had no idea what photograph Lucy sent!”

“Lucy?”

“Yes, Lucy Carrington. The teacher. She was taking pictures that day, and I was in a few of them. It never occurred to me that you would think I was the teacher. But you’ll just love Lucy! She’ll be thrilled you’re here!”

She latched onto his arm and began walking at a brisk pace, forcing his feet to follow along. “We’re on the back hall where the fifth graders are located.” She waved her hand in front of them, her silver hair bouncing as she walked. “Here we are!”

Before he had a chance to beat a retreat, the door was opened, the sound of talking children poured out into the hall, and he was thrust inside the classroom, Mrs. Farthingale at his side.

“Ms. Carrington… class… look who has come to visit us! Our very own Sergeant Roster!”

The room fell silent, and John swallowed deeply as he peered down at the room filled with small desks, small chairs, and small people. Christ, what have I gotten myself into?

Hating the black space to the left, he swung his head around to peruse the whole room. A teacher’s desk was in the corner and a dark-haired, petite woman stood staring back, her open-mouthed, wide-eyed expression capturing his attention. Her hair was neatly pulled back instead of clipped to the top of her head. Her skirt and blouse were bright colors but weren’t covered in paint splotches. Still, he recognized her instantly.

“You?”

“You!”

They spoke at the same time, but she was the first to continue. “You’re John? I mean Sergeant Roster?”

Stunned to see the woman from the hardware store, albeit much more professionally attired, he nodded, his head jerking with the motion.

She hurried around the desk toward him, her pink lips curved upward and warm brown eyes pinned on his face. Once again, she didn’t focus on his scar but instead held his gaze. “Oh, my… I had no idea… I didn’t know… but when I saw you in the hardware store, there was something so familiar about you. But your hair is longer, and your beard is shorter.” Sighing, she blushed. “Oh, I’m blabbing again.”

Mrs. Farthingale swooped over, hands clasped in front of her. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise? And he thought I was the teacher! Well, I must head over to Mr. Pritchett’s class. His substitute is having such a hard time. I’ll talk to you later!”

They both turned and watched as the aide left the room, barely aware the students were staring at them.

“She talks in exclamation points.”

His brow lowered and he turned to face Lucy, not having a clue what to say to her odd pronouncement.

She blushed, shaking her head. “Mrs. Farthingale. I always imagine that she must punctuate all her sentences with exclamation points when she talks. Or, at least, her enthusiasm appears that way to me.”

Understanding dawned, and he grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I know what you mean.”

“Oh, please, call me Lucy.” She glanced toward the class and scrunched her mouth to the side before turning her attention back to him. “Well, here it’s best if you call me Ms. Carrington.” She glanced up at the clock, her smile falling. “Oh, dear, we only have ten minutes until the class has to report to the music teacher.”

“That’s all right, ma— Uh, Ms. Carrington. I just dropped by to say thanks for the letters.”

“No, no,” the children clambered. “We want to talk to him!”

Lucy held up her hand and her brow lifted, shifting her expression from the smiling woman he’d encountered at the store to one who had complete control. Without her saying a word, the class immediately quieted. He was impressed but knew if he’d had a teacher that was as beautiful as her when he was that age, he’d have obeyed, too.

“We’ll use the next ten minutes wisely if you cooperate, and then we’ll have him come back when we have more time to have a lovely talk with Sergeant Roster.”

As though on cue, the kids immediately found their desks, sat down, and quieted, even the ones he instantly discerned would generally be rowdier. He followed her to the front of the classroom where she faced the children. “As you all now know, this is Sergeant Roster, the soldier that we’ve written to this year, and who has been so gracious to write us back when he was able. We have very little time right now for questions, but hopefully, he’ll be able to fit in another visit before he has to return to the service.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to let her know that he wouldn’t be going back but he said nothing. That would just open up questions for the kids that I don’t want to answer right now. He nodded. “I can arrange to come back easily.”

Her worried expression fled, and it struck him how glad he was that he’d been able to give her an answer that brought about such a beautiful smile. Turning to look toward the kids, he was more relaxed now that he saw their eager faces. “I’m glad to have the opportunity to thank you for writing to me. It was a real surprise when I got the first letter, and I wasn’t sure that I had anything to say. But I was grateful as the letters kept coming, giving me a little piece of home no matter where I was.”

“Did you miss home?”

The question came from a girl in the front row, her blue eyes sharp behind her glasses as she held his gaze.

“Yes, of course. I had moved around a lot as a kid, but this was where I made some of my best memories, including my teenage years, so… yeah. I missed Maine.”

Other hands lifted into the air, and for a few seconds his breath caught in his lungs, hating to talk about himself, but Lucy’s soft voice cut through his panic.

“Okay, class, you need to thank Sergeant Roster for dropping by and then form a line. Mrs. Carswell will be here momentarily.”

With efficiency worthy of military precision, she had the class lined up at the door and watched as they were escorted down the hall. Before he could blink, he was alone with her. But seeing her standing in front of him, her dark eyes peering up and her lips curved, he hated that he had no excuse to stay.

“You shaved.”

He blinked, lifting his hand to his clean-shaven face. “Uh, yes.”

She laughed, the sound already familiar from having heard it while she sat on the floor of the hardware store. “I mean since your photograph.” She nodded toward the bulletin board at the front of the classroom. “The one you sent. You had more of a dark beard then.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded in understanding, then jerked his gaze back to her. “Did you recognize me at the store?”

“Goodness, no, or I would have introduced myself. There was something about you. Something familiar, but I couldn’t place it. And then I… well, I made a complete fool of myself.”

A deep chuckle rumbled forth. “No, you didn’t. It was just an accident. It could have happened to anyone.” While he doubted that most people would have tripped so spectacularly over their own feet, he didn’t want her to feel self-conscious.

She threw her head back and laughed. The sound of mirth so pure pierced his chest.

“You’re very polite, John Roster, but believe me, my family would disagree with you. I am known to be a bit of a klutz and sometimes get so lost in my head that I’m not surprised I trip over my feet. Although, in my defense, I was trying to figure out why you looked so much like… um… our class pen pal but couldn’t imagine you were in Maine.”

“At least you didn’t run into a display and knock it over.”

“Oh, I’ve done that before. In the grocery store, and it was a display of peas. Cans of peas ended up rolling all over the floor.”

Lifting a brow, he grinned. “I wish I could have seen that.”

She rolled her eyes, another delightful blush rising over her cheeks. For a moment, silence settled between them, and he desperately wanted to keep her talking. “I’m sorry to have just dropped in. It never dawned on me that the class would have a schedule—”

She halted his words when she placed her hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. “Oh, no. Please, don’t apologize. I’m so glad you came. I mean, it was a treat for me… uh, and the kids… of course, the kids.”

He stared down at the warmth spreading up his arm from her touch and wondered if she felt it, too. From the way a blush rose from her neckline to her forehead and her eyes widened as she stared down at their connection, he figured she did. At least, he hoped she did.

“I should get your number if that’s all right.” He heard the words but was surprised to discover they came from him. “To arrange another visit. Or I could just call the school—”

“No, my number is fine. You can call anytime.” She turned and hurried to her desk, allowing him to admire her figure from behind without the kids around. She was wearing flats, but even in heels she would only come to his chin; right now, she would tuck underneath it. Wearing a pink blouse with little puffy sleeves and a bright blue skirt that skimmed the top of her knees but cupped her ass as she bent to get a piece of paper from her desk, she was completely modest—and completely sexy.

After scribbling, she turned, and he was glad his gaze had lifted from her ass. She smiled as she approached, handing him her number.

“As soon as you know your schedule, please, call and we can set up a return visit.”

He looked down at the slip of paper, her phone number printed neatly underneath her name. A flash of memory ran through his mind of a girl in high school slipping him a note with her phone number. Giving his head a little shake, he wondered what it was about being back in the school building that sent the mind to wander along paths from long ago.

“Or… If you’d rather not…”

His gaze shot from the piece of paper to her face, doubt clouding her bright eyes.Now shaking his head vehemently, he rushed,“Sorry, no, I want to. It seems that being back in the school is playing tricks on my mind. But I can call you, although the truth of the matter is… well, my schedule is very open.”

She tilted her head to the side, curiosity in her eyes.

Sighing, he scrubbed his hand over the back of his head, his fingers squeezing his neck. “I’m out of the Army. Medical discharge.”

Her gaze moved to his scar before immediately returning to his eyes. “Oh, John, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Her pink lips opened as though to speak, then shut, and she simply nodded instead. “Are you going to stay in the area?”

“Yes. My grandfather is here. He needs some help around the house, so I figure I’ll stay and make sure he’s okay. I’ve got nothing else going on right now.” As soon as those words left his mouth, he wondered what the hell had gotten into him. Yep, unemployed loser here. That sounds impressive.

Her chin dropped, her eyes lowering for a moment, and he wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t make him wait long before she reached out and touched his arm again.

“Are you still willing to talk to the class? You can talk about the military if you want, but I’d so much rather you talk to them about your life and what you’re doing now.”

He jerked slightly. “Now? But I don’t understand.”

“These children are only ten, but it’s never too young for them to learn that life doesn’t always hand them what they want. Or that sometimes plans have to change. I think it would be good for them to see a confident soldier but also see someone who is having to forge a new direction.” She sucked in her lips, pressing them tightly together, another blush rising over her cheeks. “Wow, I’m sorry. That was terribly forward of me to assume you’d want to talk about any of this.”

“No,” he rushed, wanting to erase her embarrassment. “You’re right. They’re not too young to know that… well, that life changes. But I’m not so good at talking about myself.”

Her smile removed the crinkle that had formed between her brows. “You’ll be wonderful, I’m sure.”

The sound of children’s voices in the hall met his ears, and he slipped the paper with her number into his pocket. “So, I’ll give you a call, but seriously, I can come almost any time.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I’ll walk you out on my way to pick up my class.”

He nodded, glad to have another few minutes in her company, although as they walked down the hall he couldn’t think of anything to say. Inwardly cursing at how quickly they reached the office, he turned and forced out some words. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Carrington.” Smooth, Roster. Real smooth.

Her smile widened, and he could swear the hallway brightened. She once again placed her hand on his arm, her fingers twitching slightly over his muscles.

“John, you have no idea how glad I am you came today. It was… I mean… it is so nice to meet you, too. It’s wonderful to have you back safely. I’ve thought of you often… well, your safety. Yes, I thought of your safety often.” She shook her head and laughed, her cheeks rosy once again. With a final squeeze on his arm, she turned.

After watching her walk back toward her classroom, he headed outside to the parking lot and climbed into his vehicle, his heart lighter than it had been in months.