Finding Her Home. Carol Steward
staff still at the school, I know change is an uphill battle. But this isn’t about what’s easy, it’s about what’s best for the kids. Surely as a teacher, you’re aware of the problems that the schools are facing with test scores.”
“I am.” Steve leaned a hip against the countertop, mesmerized by her dramatic outpouring. “That’s why I agreed to fill the part-time opening. I’d like to be part of the solution.”
Her passion to help the students succeed bubbled from deep within her and he admired her determination to do what was best for the kids. Why, then, couldn’t she be more objective with her grandparents? A smile crept across his lips.
Tori looked at him accusingly. “What?”
He snapped to attention, erasing the smile as if he’d been a guilty kid caught in the middle of a lie. “I’m just listening. I couldn’t agree more. The teachers started working with a literacy coach this summer.”
“That’s a good start.” She turned to the dishwater then pulled out a cloth and started wiping the counters.
She seemed skeptical that Coal Valley Secondary School could meet state standards without major changes. If they couldn’t, rumors were that the state would take over and start with an all-new staff.
The thought of the state running the school sent chills up his spine. Maybe he was in way over his head, thinking he could make a difference. After his administrative internship he hoped to find a principal position. If nothing came of that plan though, he would be content to be in the classroom, working with kids full-time. He would do anything to prove to his father that his dreams hadn’t been in vain. Listening to Tori renewed his determination.
“I’d like to hear more of your ideas. Since I’m new to education, I have a lot to learn. Maybe we could have lunch sometime.”
“I have no idea what my schedule will be like from here on out, but I love talking about education—too much, in some people’s opinion.” She stared at him. “I hope your year goes well. There’s always work for an enthusiastic teacher.” Tori slipped the pizza into a plastic bag and offered it to him. At the same time she called the hospital.
While she talked, Steve went downstairs to check on his clothes. They were almost dry, which would do him just fine. She needed to get back to the hospital.
A few minutes later Tori joined him in the basement.
“How are things going?”
“Abuela is sleeping again and the doctors are still reading her tests.” Tori looked understandably impatient. “How is your laundry coming along?”
“Fine. Why don’t you get ready, and I’ll change. And don’t let me forget to bring your grandfather’s suitcase in before we leave.”
As if reality had just hit, tears wet her dark eyes. “I wonder how long they’ll be here. Not that I mind the company, but it’s a very busy time of the year. I don’t know what to do.”
Steve patted her shoulder. “Take it one day at a time. That’s all you can do.”
Tori took a deep breath, wiping the tears away, as if determined to regain control. “I suppose you’re right.” She hesitated, then headed for the stairs. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
She looked at him approvingly when he walked into the living room a few minutes later. “No stains. I’m glad Abuelo insisted we launder them right away. I can’t thank you enough for bringing him, and helping me through the day…and not holding it against me when I made an absolute fool of myself.”
“God doesn’t make fools.” He pushed a stray hair away from her eyes. He’d wanted to touch her silky black hair all day. “I hope that when you’re in the valley, you’ll give me a call. I’d be happy to reciprocate on lunch.”
“I can see it now—lunch at the diner. You must like to set the rumor mill a turnin’.” She smiled.
Steve felt a twinge in his chest. “I’m sure I can come up with something a little more promising than the diner. Maybe we could take a picnic up the hill and watch the sun set over the Spanish Peaks.”
“Hmm. That does sound promising.”
Chapter Three
Two weeks later, Tori drove up to the tiny house on Piñon Lane. Unexpected emotions wrapped themselves around her like a cobweb. She stepped out of the SUV, stunned by the dreariness of her grandparents’ home. The August heat had sucked the life out of their yard. She touched the lilac bush and the leaves crumbled like crisp tortilla chips. Chrysanthemums drooped over, their bright buds withered. Marigolds and zinnias were dried clusters on the end of gray-green sticks.
It had only been four months since her parents left for the mission in South America, and Tori had been here just weeks before Abuela’s stroke. What had happened?
She unlocked the front door and stepped inside. A sour stench permeated the air. Tori hurried from window to window, wrestling them open. Abuela had always kept a tidy house, but now clutter filled every table and chair. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. Trash hadn’t gone out in weeks. How had everything fallen into such disarray so quickly? Why hadn’t they told her they needed help? Had she overlooked the signs?
Tori collected the odor-causing garbage, sprayed room freshener and set the trash bag outside the back door. She studied the back entrance, wondering if it might be easier to fit with a ramp than the front. She walked around the house, noticing things looked much different through the eyes of the caregiver. The three steps out front seemed like nothing until she considered how to get Abuela’s wheelchair up them and into the house. The wrought-iron handrail wobbled in the slight breeze. It, too, had fallen into a sad state of neglect. The once-neat house looked as worn-out as the owners.
School bells rang across the street and Tori turned, expecting to see the kids run anxiously out of the building, yet not a student appeared. Her alma mater, like the rest of her hometown, looked older, smaller and more withered as a result of the harsh elements and sparse budget.
“Tori!” She heard Steve holler from the school parking lot across the street. He waved, sauntering closer, speeding up with each step. She waved, recalling Steve’s occasional telephone calls to check on Grandma’s condition. “How are you?”
“Fine,” she said, stretching the truth. “I came to see about renovations. They’re sending Abuela home soon.” Tori felt an odd sense of panic. Suddenly taking care of two other people seemed overwhelming. She, who worked seventeen-hour days, was actually feeling out of her realm.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’d have—”
“It was a last-minute decision. I dropped Abuelo off at the care center to spend the day with Grandmother. My brother will pick him up this afternoon. They tried to talk me out of coming here by insisting that it would only take a little rearranging of furniture to make it work.”
“I’m sure it won’t be too difficult.”
Tori appreciated his cheerleading efforts, but he hadn’t seen the mess inside. “I’m glad I didn’t put this off any longer.” She took a deep breath and lifted her shoulders. “I met with the physical therapist yesterday to find out what needed to be done before they could send Abuela home. She’s paralyzed on one side.” Tori shook her head, the weight of the situation winning again. “I just don’t know if this is going to work. The rooms are small, doorways narrow and the house is so cluttered.” She looked around the yard and felt tears cloud her vision. “This is so unlike my grandparents.”
“I came over last week and tried to see if he had a mower in the garage, but it’s locked. How long are you staying?”
“For the weekend. My brother and his family are on their way from Texas.” She looked at her watch. “Should be arriving any time. He’s going to stay at my condo with Abuelo….”
Steve looked puzzled.