“Is there something I can help you with? Or did you come to talk about the field trips? You know, I thought about talking to the kindergarten and first-grade teachers to see if we can link the trips to the farm with a lesson on health—you know, nutrition and where food comes from. That’s a little different than they’ve done it in years past, but I think it would be interesting. What do you think?”
Betsy nodded, her head fuzzy. “Sure, that . . . that sounds great. I do have one other thing I wanted to talk to you about. It’s not about the field trips though.”
“Okay.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. “I’m all ears.”
She took a deep breath. “Would it be possible for me to enroll a child in the school when she’s not technically mine?”
There it was. The urge she couldn’t even explain to herself, much less to her husband. She tried the other night in the kitchen, but when she voiced the idea, it didn’t sound the same as it had in her mind. Ty thought it was crazy. And it was crazy—the idea of the girls staying, settling—but it kept dancing through her mind at inopportune times. In and out, here and there, but she kept forcing it away. Then it went and burrowed its way into her brain and hung on tight. It didn’t make sense, it was impossible, but it was out now.
“By ‘not technically yours,’ you mean . . . ?”
“It’s my niece. The older one. You saw them when we ran into you in Target.”
He gave a slow nod. “I remember.” He exhaled and sat back in his chair. “Is that . . . Are they going to be staying with you and your husband? Permanently?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.” She kept herself from wincing at the lie. But she’d heard Mrs. Kline. School started in mere weeks. It was likely the same for the girls’ school in Nashville, and Betsy still didn’t know exactly when Jenna would be back. She shut off the competing voices in her head. “If they do end up staying with us—for the school year—what would I need to do to enroll Addie in kindergarten?”
“Well, timing isn’t the big issue. You can enroll a child anytime during the year. The real issue would be showing that you’re her legal guardian, and that may take a while. You’d have to fill out paperwork to file for guardianship.” He ticked items off on his fingers. “You have to get a letter of consent from the child’s parents, interviews with the court, usually a home visit to establish living conditions. It’s a lot to tackle, especially before the August 20 start date.”
He paused, straightened a notebook on his desk. “I was under the impression that you were just keeping the kids for a little while. Babysitting.” He looked up at her. “I guess plans have changed?”
“Something like that,” Betsy said, unable to explain further. Her head felt like it was underwater.
“My suggestion would be to talk to your sister. If she agrees the kids should start school here, then get the paperwork started. I’ll take care of enrollment.”
Betsy rubbed her hands up and down the top of her thighs, then picked up her bag from the floor. “Thank you. I’m not sure about everything, but I’ll let you know if we decide something firm.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She was halfway down the hall when Mr. Burgess called her. He met her in the hall, glancing behind her toward Mrs. Kline’s office, then spoke quietly. “I have to tell you, these things often don’t work out well. If you have both parents’ consent, then fine. The process should be pretty smooth. But if not, then you have to prove abandonment, and if the parents don’t agree, going against their wishes is hard. I’ve seen families ruined over this.”
Betsy swallowed hard. Nodded.
“Just make sure this is really what you want to do.”
In the privacy of her car, Betsy threw her bag down on the passenger seat and let out a shaky breath. What had she just done? She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. Not really, anyway. Yet she’d let her guard down for a minute and they’d come. But then Mr. Burgess’s last words—abandonment. Ruined families. An intrusive whisper in her mind told her she’d gone too far, but on the other hand, life had to go on for these girls, right? If that meant getting them in school when everyone else started, how could that be a bad thing?
Rainwater dripped off trees onto the windshield and pulled her from her thoughts. The rain had finally let up but the clouds were still thick, making it feel later than it was—only five o’clock. Betsy’s stomach rumbled in protest of her skipped lunch. She rolled down her windows on the way home and savored the breeze on her cheeks that almost felt cool—nothing like the usual stifling humidity after a summer rainstorm. She let the wind carry away her thoughts and quiet the noise in her mind.
thirty-two
Betsy
She saw the lights before she pulled into the driveway—hundreds of tiny white orbs set against the blurred gray sky. A handful of extra trucks lined the edge of the driveway, and stretched between the back door and the oak tree was a huge banner. Happy Birthday Betsy spread across the top in big, blocky letters, the rest decorated with Magic Marker polka dots and squiggles.
Betsy let out a laugh, then ran her hands through her hair and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Of course,” she murmured. “Of course he did.”
She took a moment to gather her bag and books, her stomach fluttery with nerves, then thought better of it and left the books in the car. As she climbed out she took a deep breath and
