Magic In A Jelly Jar. Sally Hayes Tyler
her tooth stuck in the side of Luke’s thumb, and then she screamed, too.
Chapter One
“He what?”
Leaning against the open door of his pickup, his cell phone cradled against his ear and noise from the construction site making it nearly impossible to hear, Joe Morgan was sure there had to be some mistake. Even though Luke was only in first grade, Joe had already gotten some strange phone calls from school. This, however, was the strangest.
“What was he doing with his hand in a girl’s mouth?”
“Trying to pull the tooth, I believe,” said Miss Reynolds, Luke’s twenty-something, ever-so-proper, first-grade teacher. “Maybe Luke will explain that to you. He certainly wouldn’t say anything more to me.”
Joe could just imagine the story Luke would tell about this particular antic. Luke was always up to something, always scheming and planning, always into some sort of trouble.
“He broke the girl’s tooth?”
“Apparently the tooth was already loose. When he tried to get it out of Jenny’s mouth, it hurt. So she bit him. When he pulled his hand out of her mouth, the tooth came with it. It was stuck in the side of his thumb.”
“Wonderful.” Joe could just imagine what this girl’s parents must think of him and his son.
“Neither one of them is hurt. Not really. They both just want the tooth. Luke claims he bought it from Jenny for fifty cents.”
“While it was still in her mouth?” Joe frowned. Other kids were content to play doctor. His son had to be original.
“Honestly, Mr. Morgan, that’s all I’ve managed to get out of them. The children know they’re in trouble and are refusing to talk. We also can’t find the tooth, something that’s causing them considerable anxiety.”
Joe sighed.
Ever since Luke had lost his first tooth—no, even before that—he’d been fascinated with the whole idea of losing teeth. He was definitely up to something. Joe had no idea what. Raising two little kids on his own, now that his wife was gone, was proving to be almost more than he could handle. But he never thought he’d get tripped up so thoroughly over something like teeth.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come in again, Mr. Morgan. We need to talk about what’s going on with Luke.”
Joe groaned, but he was at the school at three-twenty, right on schedule. He parked his pickup amidst enough minivans and SUVs to stock a car lot, then dusted off his jeans as best he could, sending sawdust flying. His shirt was coated with dust, as well, his cowboy boots caked with dried mud, but there was nothing he could do about that. He worked hard for a living, and by this time of day, it showed.
The school Luke attended was old and steeped in tradition. For more than one hundred years, St. Mark’s Academy had educated the well-to-do children of the well-to-do St. Mark’s parish, and the family of Joe’s former wife had been founding members of the church and the school. His mother-in-law had put the kids’ names on the preenrollment list the day they were born, and she’d probably pulled some strings to get them admitted.
Joe felt as if he’d had no choice but to send Luke and Dani there, even if tuition was killing him and he never quite felt at ease inside this building or with the parents of the other students.
Keeping his eyes down, a tight smile on his face, he made his way across the broad sidewalk, where children were waiting to be picked up from school. In their school plaids and white shirts, the girls were neat and tidy, their hair done in sleek ponytails or intricate braids that Joe would never master. The boys, in dark slacks, white shirts and outrageously expensive sneakers, were louder and rougher as they huddled together laughing and talking about their day. His son was probably in Sister Mary Margaret’s office. Sister was the principal, and Joe had never met a woman so good at invoking guilt and remorse in his weary soul.
He went to Luke’s classroom, with its four neat rows of tiny desks and chairs, every inch of the walls covered with kids’ drawings and posters and signs. Order reigned here, where chaos was king at his home. No wonder Luke didn’t fit in, Joe thought.
“Mr. Morgan?”
Luke’s teacher, who might have been twenty-five years old, was waiting for him. He felt ancient beside her, though he was only thirty-one. Miss Reynolds, as he’d always called her, because that was what Luke called her and Joe didn’t even know her first name, wore a long flowery dress with lace at the collar and the sleeves. Her hair was smoothed back into a neat knot at the back of her head. She always gave him a smile that made him feel like a bowl of cream that had been placed in front of a happy hungry cat. She was husband-hunting, just as he’d feared the first time he came in for one of these little conferences. But Joe wasn’t interested in being anyone’s husband again.
Luke, he thought, you’re going to pay for this.
“Ma’am,” he said, trying to hide all that he was feeling. If he hadn’t left Texas nearly a decade ago, he would have tipped his hat, in that respectful way he’d been taught to greet a lady. Instead, he settled for nodding his head and lowering his eyes.
“Mr. Morgan.” She pointed to one of the kiddie chairs. “Please sit.”
Joe sank into it and tried not to grimace as his knees rose in front of him. He just loved these chairs.
“I sent Luke to the after-school program so we can have our little talk in private,” she said. “Mr. Morgan, I don’t mean to pry, but I was wondering if there was anything going on at home that I should know about.”
Joe groaned. The teacher smiled sweetly, as if she hadn’t asked him to bare his soul to her.
“Sometimes parents aren’t aware of it,” she said, “but problems at home almost always show up in a child’s behavior at school. And if there is a problem, it’s best to tell us so we can be prepared and try to offer some extra help and understanding.”
Everyone at his house could use some extra help and understanding, Joe thought. But still, he hated what it would take to get it for them.
“I know that you and Luke’s mother are divorced,” she began, “and that you have full custody.”
“That’s right,” he said. He’d given the school the bare bones of it on the forms he’d filled out. Who was the custodial parent? Who was authorized to pick up the child from school and who wasn’t? Were there any custody issues the school should be aware of? He’d hated that form.
“And the two of you have been separated for…?”
“Thirteen months.” He could tell her the day, even the hour, if she thought that was necessary.
“And when Luke does see his mother—”
“He doesn’t,” Joe cut in.
“Oh.” Miss Reynolds looked taken aback. “Not ever?”
“No.” Joe’s face burned.
“Well…I wish we had known sooner.”
“Sorry,” he said tightly. It was the first time his wife ever walked out, and he wasn’t up on all the proper procedures to follow.
“Look, I don’t mean to pry. I was just worried about Luke and trying to understand what was going on. I noticed when we returned after Christmas break a few weeks ago that Luke seemed particularly upset. I thought perhaps something happened at Christmas.”
Joe suspected that Luke asked Santa to bring his mother home for Christmas, and Santa hadn’t. Not that Joe was going to share that particular tidbit with Miss Reynolds.
“Luke is rather quick-tempered lately,” she tried. “And irritable.”
She could have easily been describing Joe, but again, he didn’t say anything about that. Still, she looked