To Be a Family. Joan Kilby
But how was it that she’d known nothing about this Tuti? Who was her mother and why had John brought her here? Did Riley know about her? Questions crowded her mind, confusing her. Emotions she didn’t understand made her chest ache. But this wasn’t the time or the place to try to make sense of things. The little girl already looked distressed.
Katie collected herself and forced a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Tuti. Would you like to join the class?”
The little girl pressed closer to John and turned her face into his waist, her pigtails quivering.
“Does she speak English?” Katie asked.
“A little but she hasn’t said a word since she got here three days ago.” John’s eyes pleaded with Katie. “I’m sure she’ll get up to speed quickly but in the meantime she’ll need extra help.”
“I already have a full class—the administration knows that,” Katie said. “She’d be better off with Phoebe Mallon. Phoebe has another English-as-a-second-language student.”
“I asked specifically for you. Your assistant principal said it would be okay.” When Katie didn’t reply to that, he added, “I don’t know Phoebe Mallon. I know you. I know how much you love kids. I want someone who will care about her.”
Care about his child with another woman. Really?
Behind her, shifting chairs and whispers told her the pupils had finished their work and were getting restless. Probably curious, too, about the new girl. Dragging this out wouldn’t help Tuti. John was right about one thing. Katie loved children and she was a soft touch. She would make room for the girl in her class.
“I’m going to read the class a story, Tuti,” Katie said. “Do you like stories?”
Tuti stilled. Then she glanced up at John as if looking for confirmation.
He nodded. “Story…book.” He added to Katie, “We’ve just about worn out the pages on yours.” He turned back to Tuti. “Miss Henning is the lady who wrote Lizzy And Monkey.”
Tuti brightened a little.
John crouched so he was eye level. “I have to go to work, Tuti. I’ll come back for you this afternoon.” Her bottom lip wobbled. He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Chin up,” he said, his voice gruff.
Seeing his awkward, tender display of affection, Katie felt a reluctant tug at her heart. Of course she’d always known John would be great with kids. He was a favorite uncle. It made sense he would be a natural as a father.
Tuti looked about to cry. To forestall the waterworks Katie held out her hand to Tuti. “Come with me,” she said warmly. “You can sit with Belinda.” She gestured to a girl with curly brown hair in the front row. Belinda liked to be teacher’s pet but Katie knew she would be kind and helpful. “Belinda, will you come and show Tuti where to sit for story time? Class, this is Tuti. Please welcome her.”
The students parroted, obediently if raggedly, “Welcome, Tuti.”
Belinda took Tuti’s hand, fussy and full of self-importance. “We have to get a chair and go sit in a circle. You can sit beside me.” Then she added in a whisper, “Don’t cry. It’ll be all right.”
The children got up and moved to the story circle at the back of the class, the girls talking, the boys pushing. Tuti followed Belinda, holding tightly to the other girl’s hand.
John ran a hand through his hair and blew out a heartfelt sigh. “Thanks. I appreciate this.”
“I’m doing it for Tuti.” Katie fixed him with a stern glance. “We’ll need to talk about how best to integrate her into the school community. Please see me this afternoon after class.”
John’s mouth twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”
“This isn’t a joking matter.” She didn’t like being put on the spot. She didn’t like how John had taken advantage of their history. And she didn’t like that he’d had a child with another woman so soon after he’d left her. It didn’t take a math whiz to calculate that Tuti had been conceived within a few months of his departure. When she was still sick with cancer. He and Tuti’s mother must have been making love while she was lying in her hospital bed.
“Yes, I’ll do anything for my kids. But get one thing straight. You don’t know me.”
John’s lips flattened. “Whatever. As long as we’re on the same page with regards to Tuti. I’ll see you at three-thirty.”
He left and Katie turned back to her class. Belinda was chatting away seemingly oblivious to the fact that Tuti hadn’t said a word. Tuti glanced up at Katie, and across the room something tugged at Katie’s heart. Oh, no. No, no, no. She wasn’t going to fall for John’s little girl. She would do her best for Tuti as a teacher but that’s where it had to end. For seven years she’d avoided contact with him. The last thing she wanted was a reason to spend time with John Forster.
* * *
THE HALLS WERE empty when John returned to Katie’s classroom door that afternoon. Was she going to make him write out lines on the blackboard? I must not bring home foreign children.
Frankly, he wondered if he’d made a mistake in doing so. It was one thing to feel a familial connection to Tuti and another thing for a bachelor to make a home for a little girl he barely knew and couldn’t communicate with.
Last night she’d cried herself to sleep. He’d put it down to tiredness, homesickness and unfamiliar surroundings. He’d tucked her into bed with the doll his mother had brought, but when he’d checked on her in the night, again he’d found her rolled in a blanket on the floor. He’d carried her back to bed. In the morning she’d been back on the floor.
Breakfast this morning was another disaster. He couldn’t comb her hair into a proper pigtail to save his soul. He’d run out of cereal and she didn’t like toast with Vegemite, or bacon and eggs. In the end he’d found a mango in the back of the fridge.
She had been excited about going to school. Until, that is, she’d seen the huge building and the hordes of children in the playground. He couldn’t blame her for being shy—the population of the school was larger than her village—but he didn’t know how to deal with it. All his nieces and nephews were outgoing, gregarious kids.
He knocked on Katie’s classroom door. She was a quiet person. She must be able to relate to Tuti.
“Come in.” Seated at her desk, Katie was placing big tick marks in a notebook filled with printing practice. “Sit down.”
John glanced around for Tuti. She was curled up in a beanbag chair at the back of the room, her nose buried in a picture book. She glanced up, but he motioned for her to stay there while he spoke with her teacher. Gingerly, he lowered himself onto a chair made for a six-year-old, not a grown man, a tall one at that. Feeling ridiculous and at a distinct disadvantage, he waited while Katie finished the notebook she was marking.
She took her time, writing an encouraging note and adding a parrot sticker. Finally she put down her red pencil, closed the notebook and placed it atop the stack on her right. She folded her hands on her desk. “So.”
John could still recall his grade-one teacher. Mrs. Renwich had frizzy orange hair, wore glasses on a long chain that sat on her ample bosom and smelled like corned beef. Katie was the complete opposite. Silky dark hair that waved softly around her shoulders, a sweet floral scent, a ready smile and the kindest eyes he’d ever known. Right now she made him more nervous than Mrs. Renwich ever had.
He was still chafing over the way she had said he didn’t know her. True, it had been a long time since they’d been together, and she’d undoubtedly changed some. But how was he supposed to know her if she kept refusing to talk to him?
“How did Tuti do today?”
“There are issues. Before we get to those I’m interested in