Danny's Mom Read Online Free

year before, when Bob had said she was “adorable,” I knew I'd be working with her.
    Steve met with Debra and me during fourth period, when student traffic lulled. I tried to seem interested in who was failing what class, who already heard from which college, and who had in-school suspension. I thanked Steve and Debra for filling in for me, for “pitch-hitting” I must have said, because Steve chuckled when he corrected me. “You mean pinch -hitting, Beth. Thought the guys taught you better.”
    The guys. Those words cracked me open. I held back tears—or tried to, at least—as Bob entered the counseling center. He ushered in Dr. Sullivan, the superintendent of schools.
    “Beth,” Dr. Sullivan said, “I'm so sorry about your loss.” I dabbed my eyes as I stood to greet him. “The Board asked that I extend their condolences.” I struggled to say something but couldn't find my voice.

    Fifth period, Callie wanted to drag me to the faculty room. But I couldn't bring myself to go.
    “She's not ready,” Sue said from behind her desk, looking at Callie as if I weren't there. “Just eat in Beth's office today.”
     
    Sue would have been a good journalist: accurate, terse, just the facts. If she walked into a restaurant in her tailored suit and matching pumps, you'd guess she was a reporter.
    When I was pregnant with Danny, Joe and I often played “guess the profession” at the Bay View Diner. Had I seen Sue back then, I never would have guessed she was a school secretary. “Journalist,” I would have said. “Newspaper. TV, maybe.” Joe always smiled, despite some of my ridiculous conjectures–or perhaps because of them.
    I was teaching second grade then, and school used me up. After work, I'd barely conquer the stairs of our new house. And Joe was so busy he didn't even have time to figure out what was wrong with the stove, which didn't always light. Yet despite our handyman's special, my father was proud of our move to Bay View.
    “This house will be perfect for you,” Dad said when we drove him by before we went to contract. “After all, Joe's a handy man. You two'll fix it up real nice. Why, I bet a year from now, no one'll recognize the place. And the best thing is, it's less than half an hour from my house.”
    “So you'll come for dinner often. Right, Dad?”
    “Sure, honey. Once that baby's born, wild horses wouldn't keep me away.”
    Joe stared at the road. I had asked him not to tell my father about my emergency visit to Dr. Feinman's office the day before, after I started spotting at school. The doctor's hands were cold on the inside of my knees when he pushed them apart. “If you're determined to keep working,” Dr. Feinman had said, “you go straight home afterwork and get off your feet. I'm sure I don't have to remind you that you've already had two miscarriages, Beth. We're not going for a third, are we?”
    Now glimpses of “guess the profession,” driving Dad by the house, and Dr. Feinman flitted through my mind as Sue told Callie we should eat in my office. Yes, Sue would have been a good journalist, all right. Just the facts: I wasn't ready—not for lunch with the teachers and not for troubled students. But I couldn't see that then.

Chapter Three
    T hat first day back at Meadow Brook High School, Callie and I signed out thirty minutes after the last bell. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sharp March light after a day under yellow fluorescents, but the crisp outdoor air was a quickly-welcomed change from stuffy school heat. After two steps, my heel found a rut in the parking lot, battered by February's storms. I stumbled, and Callie placed a hand on my back to guide me to her white Volvo.
    We cracked open the car windows as the baseball team boarded the bus for a pre-season game. Zach Stanish, the captain, called to us: “Hi, Mrs. Harris! Hey, Mrs. Maller!” I waved toward the sound, a voice like my son's. Hey, Mom! Danny would call as he'd bolt to his room after