Married in Haste. Roz Fox Denny
many of her contemporaries’ weddings he’d officiated at over the past year.
Marriage was a difficult issue for her. The forever-after vow bothered Abby. Nothing lasted forever. While she hated to disappoint Elliot, marriage was a subject on which they held fundamentally different views. He just didn’t understand. Elliot would never bend a single one of the ten commandments. Ever. Not for any reason.
While she wasn’t one to avoid confrontation, Abby decided she ought to rehearse what she’d say to Elliot and Blair. There was no one sweeter than Blair. And no one who deserved a break more.
Abby stacked her tests to take home. She’d think about it overnight and maybe something would come to her.
Nothing did. She stalled for two more days and nights.
Friday, her back was to the wall. She had no choice but to go by their house before work and ’fess up. But when she phoned to inform them of her plan, Elliot didn’t have time to talk. He said he had a meeting in town. Blair was accompanying him so she could use the van later. “Sam needs shoes,” Elliot said, sounding rushed. “And we have to drop the twins off at school.”
Abby turned her calendar and panic set in. It was her morning to do the breakfast shift in the cafeteria. “I forgot I have morning duty. But what I have to tell you is important. I can’t sit for you guys next week. I’m going skiing with Ben. We’re going to Canada.”
“What? Nonsense!”
“Sorry, Elliot. I have to dash or risk being late. Is your meeting an all-day affair, or can I call you on your cell phone during my lunch break?”
“I’ll phone you at school as soon as I finish my meeting,” Elliot told her sternly.
Abby wrinkled her nose at the buzzing phone as she hung up.
CHAPTER TWO
WHILE HER CAR IDLED off the morning chill, Abby was pleased to see sun chasing off the clouds. She hoped this would turn out to be a nice day. For February, Seattle enjoyed relatively mild temperatures.
Her breakfast duty started at seven. Their school had so many single moms and working parents, they’d long since instituted a hot breakfast plan five days a week. If she’d thought sooner, Abby would have offered Blair the use of her car. She wouldn’t need it for a week, and Ben could as easily pick her up at school. Besides, it would be easier to talk to Blair about her plans. She was less…uncompromising than Elliot.
As she approached the school, Abby scanned the line of cars pulling through the bus lane to drop students at the cafeteria. If she saw her brother and his wife, she’d still make the offer. Unfortunately, the Drummonds’ aging van wasn’t among those parked in the circular drive, so Abby drove by and parked in the faculty lot.
She’d missed them, she discovered as soon as she entered the building. Her nephews were lying in wait to pounce on her. Nine-year-old Noah and Michael both had missing front teeth, which made what they said hard to understand. Ultimately Abby deduced that they were regaling her with the latest antics of their beloved boxer, Ruffian. “You know what, Aunt Abby? Ruffian chewed holes in Daddy’s best tie this morning.”
“Yeth,” agreed one of the younger twins. At seven, Brad still lisped. He tugged Abby’s jacket, wanting to be heard over Reed, his more gregarious twin. “Mama covered our ears, ’cause Daddy said bad words.”
“No kidding?” Abby knew she should let remarks of that sort slide rather than draw attention to them. But it seemed so…not like Elliot. She paused to consider whether or not he might be exceptionally upset by her news. Or were things rocky at his church? She knew from past history that working with congregations wasn’t always sweetness and light. Ministers were often unduly pressured by either their flocks or their governing boards. Maybe Elliot and Blair needed a break more than she’d assumed. What if they were really counting on her for next week?
Blair had been vague about their plans, but still…
Friends of the boys called to them. True to their fickle natures, her nephews abandoned Abby and hurried off to line up for chow with their pals.
Other kids circled around her. Abby rarely lacked the company of kids during her cafeteria or playground duties. Her attention wandered to a group entering the room. Ben’s nieces were among them. Abby hadn’t seen Erin and Mollie with the breakfast bunch before.
She worked her way in their direction, deciding to ask if there’d been a change in their mom’s schedule.
“Girls, hi.” Abby spoke to the girls even as her eyes strayed to a rowdy collection of fourth-and fifth-grade boys who seemed to be getting out of control at one of the tables.
“Ms. Drummond, how come you’re on morning duty?” Erin exclaimed.
“All teachers rotate morning and after school, hon. I was just thinking I hadn’t seen you and Mollie here before.”
Mollie danced from foot to foot until Erin stilled her. “Mommy’s insurance office went to flex time.” The eight-year-old’s elfin face grew serious behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “Mollie and I have to get up earlier now.”
“I don’t like it,” Mollie interjected.
Erin, the more sedate of the two, placed a firm hand on her younger sister’s shoulder. “We don’t really mind. It means Mommy’s home at two-thirty when school lets out.”
“Well, that’s good. So you’re no longer going to Mrs. Scott’s?”
“She moved to California to live with her son.”
Mollie piped up again. “Mrs. Scott said her old bones don’t like Seattle rain.”
“Ah. Last year, I do remember her having problems with arthritis. Well, it seems your mom’s new schedule came at a good time. Excuse me, girls. I need to go chat with those boys. In case I don’t get back to you, have a great day.”
Abby had taken maybe five steps toward the disruptive boys when, without warning, the cafeteria floor shifted under her feet and sent her reeling. Simultaneously her stomach tightened, then dropped. She lurched sideways, right, then left, as if she’d stepped on a carnival ride. A Tilt-A-Whirl. Abby grabbed for a chair only to have it bob crazily away. As she tried righting herself, another jolt threw her to her knees. All around her, kids began to scream and cry.
For a moment, an unnamed panic seized Abby. Her heart raced as she crawled across the bucking floor. She forced herself to climb to her feet.
Food trays flew off nearby tables. Chairs toppled. Kids scrambled over one another. Automatically, Abby clutched a whistle swinging from a cord around her neck. She blew two sharp blasts. Stretching out her arms, she caught a bunch of kids who hurtled past her. “It’s an earthquake,” she shouted, realizing what was happening. “Remember our drills! Jason Bingham, stop in your tracks. All of you! Listen to me.”
This wasn’t the first quake in Abby’s career. Oddly, it was the noisiest and seemed to last longer than most. Her attempts to achieve order went unheeded.
The cook and cashier exploded out from their stations. Abby’s counterpart, a fourth-grade teacher, began herding older kids out the back exit while yelling something Abby couldn’t distinguish. A third shrill blast of her whistle failed to cut through a horrendous rumble.
As sheer pandemonium erupted and inanimate objects bounced past her, Abby’s training kicked in. Two facts struck her—the rumble had turned into a roar, and the shaking, which had always faded quickly in past earthquakes, was splitting wide cracks in the tile floor. Tables slid in one direction, then the other. Some toppled. Dust billowed from the cracks, making everyone cough and choke.
“Children, line up by twos,” Abby said between gagging. “We’re going outside just like we’ve practiced. Leaders, head for the middle of the playground, away from anything that might fall from the building. Stop screaming! I know you’re scared. You older kids, hold hands with someone younger.”