Queen Esther & the Second Graders of Doom

“No,” sighed Essie, easing herself into the Adirondack chair and wishing with every cell in her body that Anna was on the chair next to her and they were in New Jersey again. “No, I’m really glad to hear your voice. I’d have been sick if I missed your call.”

“Listen, I’m sorry things are lousy right now, but I have some good news—it’s one of the reasons I called.”

“I could use good news right now.”

“Kevin was at some athletic thing last night, one of those association meetings or whatever those monthly things are, and he ran into someone.”

“Yeah?”

“Some former college buddy who knows a bunch of people out in California. Essie, he says he knows of a junior college right by you looking for a women’s track coach. Starting in February. Isn’t that when you said you would need to go back to work?”

Essie took a deep breath. “It’s too early to be making those kinds of plans. I’m lucky to be walking and talking these days, much less launching a job search.”

“This could be God working things out for you. Think about it—what are the chances of Kevin bumping into this guy and hearing this kind of information?”

“No, you’re right, it does sound like it’s worth checking into.” Essie thought that last bit sounded less comatose.

“Good. Check your e-mail tonight. Kevin is sending the details. And I want photos of my little godson. He must be growing like a weed by now.”

“At the moment, he’s just growing viruses. Well, I do think he’s up a pound or two. I didn’t take much notice at the doctor’s this morning.”

“You found a good doctor?”

“Yes, he seems great. Your standard nice-old-guy pediatrician.”

“You mean they don’t all look like George Clooney out there?”

“I wish. No, this guy looks closer to Ed Asner. Or that oatmeal spokesman—what’s his name?”

“Beats me, I’m strictly a toast kind of woman. But I think I know the type.”

Essie let out a long sigh. The kind of shuddering sigh a body gives out after too many tears. “I want to come home. I’d never say that to Doug—or to Mom and Pop—but I want to come home.”

“You are home, Essie. You just don’t know it yet.”

No, thought Essie, laying her cheek against the chair back, I don’t know it at all.

Chapter 5

The Box Marked “Those”

Essie had barely caught her emotional balance when the phone rang again.

“Essie. Hi there, it’s Dahlia. Dahlia Mannington. Glad to catch you at home. Is now a good time?”

A good time? That might take a six-month delay. “Now’s fine. Josh hasn’t been feeling well, but he’s down for his nap. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you’ve had Stanton in your class for a few weeks now. I make it a point to get together with all Stanton’s teachers early in the year. You know, a bit of a ‘get to know each other’ visit.”

Wow, thought Essie, this is one thorough woman. She’d had parents like that at Pembrook High, but never ones who extended such thinking clear into Sunday school. Of course, the parents who make such heroic attempts at parent-teacher cooperation were almost never the ones who needed it. The parents of teens who terrorized classmates on the bus, or deliberately hit kids’ heads in dodgeball, those parents would never offer to meet. Many times they often refused to meet, certain their splendid offspring could never do wrong.

Almost all the time. Occasionally, a clever, manipulative child had intensely cooperative parents. It was usually then that Essie discovered the thin line between “intensely cooperative” and “cleverly manipulative.” The very thin line indeed.

“Essie?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so surprised at your…commitment…to Sunday school. It’s nice, actually.” She really almost meant it. “Sure, I’d love to meet. Stanton’s quite a boy.”

If a mom could beam over a telephone line, Essie thought she could hear it right through the wires. “He is, isn’t he? Boys can be such a handful as infants, but Stanton’s turned out to be such a joy to us.”

On impulse, Essie asked, “Did Stanton get a lot of ear infections when he was a baby?”

Dahlia groaned. “Is that what Joshua is facing? Oh, Stanton had dozens. I ended up seeing three specialists, all to no avail. Ears will do what ears will do, evidently. Even did the tubes, but they popped out—twice.” Her voice changed as she suddenly caught the motivation for Essie’s question. “How many so far?”

“Just one so far, but it’s in both ears. His doctor tells me it won’t be his last, though. He actually said I should be pleased he didn’t get his first one until he was this old.”

“How old is your son again?”

“Six months.”

“Six months and this is your first infection? Oh, I’d have to say I’d agree. I think Stanton had been through at least two by then. Maybe even three.”

Now it was Essie’s turn to groan. “I want to feel lucky, really I do.”

“By the fifth infection, you won’t even flinch. I guarantee it.”

Fifth?

“And if you have to do the tubes, I know a fabulous specialist.”

Of that, Essie had no doubt.

“Well,” continued Dahlia, “I’m glad you’re amenable to a meeting. How does ten-thirty Thursday suit your schedule? I’ll have Carmen whip us up some sweet rolls.”

Essie could guess who Carmen was, and how much work might be involved in “just whipping up” some sweet rolls that met Dahlia’s standards.

“I’d love to come. Ten-thirty is perfect—it means Josh will conk out in his stroller for most of the meeting.”

“Splendid.” Dahlia gave Essie the address, even though Essie had a class list with all kinds of contact information. Essie took it down, mostly to be polite. Sure enough, it was in one of the spiffiest sections of town.

Essie was just talking herself out of a case of nerves when Dahlia added, “I’ve got a few papers I was hoping you could read before we meet. You don’t happen to have a fax machine at home, do you?”

“Uh, no.” Fax machine? Essie was glad they’d managed to pay for Internet service. Forget about a fax machine. Then again, Doug did work in computers and Dahlia knew that, so maybe it wasn’t such a stretch for some.

“Do you think I could fax it to your husband, or your brother, and have them give it to you?”

Obviously, Dahlia wanted Essie to do her homework before they met. On a quick analysis, Essie decided Doug was the better candidate, and she rattled off Doug’s office fax number. “I’ll just call Doug after I hang up with you and tell him to expect something.”

“Marvelous.” A cascade of Spanish erupted in the background and Dahlia let out an exasperated sigh. “Uno minuto, Carmen. Sorry, but I’d best get going. See you Thursday.”