“Au revoir, Madame,” the small senior year class chanted back, their minds already on the imminent bell and a weekend of freedom.
“Soyez sage le weekend ou ne vous faites pas prendre.”
Most of the class laughed but a couple of the boys gave her a quizzical look. “Be good on the weekend or what?”
“Be good or don’t get caught.”
“Respect, Mrs. H.”
She laughed. “Perhaps I should have said write your dialogue ready for me on Monday.”
They groaned good-naturedly and walked out into the pale autumn sunshine. As Karen slid her computer into the padded section of her backpack, she ran through her mental check list of the things she needed to do before meeting Peter at the RSL for dinner. The first job was to pick up Indi from daycare. Libby had telephoned at 7:00 this morning with the request—or to be more accurate—the command. Given Karen’s unexpected teaching load, she’d asked Libby if there was a reason why Nick couldn’t do it.
“Leo is at childcare today.”
“And you don’t want to risk him running into Jess?”
“That too.”
The bitterness in her daughter’s voice both shocked and rattled Karen. It triggered memories of her father—memories she’d buried long ago—and their unexpected and unwelcome intrusion left her shaky. “I understand why you don’t want Nick anywhere near Jess, but, sweetheart, Leo is just a little boy.”
“Just?” Libby’s voice cracked on a screech. “I really don’t understand you, Mom. You told me to leave Nick. You said he didn’t deserve me and I should protect myself. Well, I’m trying to protect myself and the girls while I work out if my marriage is over. But you’re so focused on punishing Nick, you don’t care that me leaving him means it rocks your granddaughters’ world to its core and slashes time with their father. Yet, you’re saying he should see that child? None of this is helpful, Mom. None of it!”
Libby’s rancor burned Karen’s ear. “Darling, I only want what’s best for you.”
“Then be like Dad. Support my decisions! And if you can’t do that, then give me space, because right now, I don’t need any more enemies.”
Apprehension jittered in Karen’s belly. Even when Libby was a teen and establishing her place in the world, she’d never spoken to her this way. From the start, Libby had always known her own mind and been goal oriented, and Karen appreciated the strength those traits gave her elder daughter. More than once she’d wished Alice had been blessed with similar mental fortitude. But as much as Karen appreciated Libby’s strength of purpose, her own childhood experiences were never too far away, so she’d been almost obsessive about teaching both girls to be kind and considerate, thoughtful and loving. Exactly like their paternal grandparents. Nothing like her own parents.
Apart from the occasional and very normal moments of teenage self-centeredness, Karen had never had any cause for concern that Libby wasn’t kind and caring—her choice of career reinforced it. But now there was a sharp and biting hardness to her and an uncompromising stance on people being either for her or against her; an almost brutal insistence that family and friends choose a side.
Karen opened her mouth to tell her daughter that unlike Nick, she was on her side and that was possible even if she didn’t completely agree with her. But the past suddenly rushed at her in vivid flashes of memory. Soundbites of her parents’ rancor. Hunger chomping through her stomach lining. Being faced with impossible choices. Cuddling Lisa and making promises to her baby sister that she never got to fulfill because her father—
Her stomach cramped so tightly she doubled over. This acrimonious version of Libby was devastatingly familiar—a female version of Karen’s father. This Libby wouldn’t hesitate to cut Karen out of her and her granddaughters’ lives. Karen refused to make the same mistake a second time. The little girls needed her. Libby needed her, even if she couldn’t see that through the red haze of her current paranoia.
“I’ll pick up Indi.”
“Thank you.”
But there was no gratitude attached to the word, only critical expectation. Karen rarely cried, but tears pooled behind her eyes. What if Libby’s new hardness and intractability weren’t temporary? Karen gave herself a jolly good shake. Of course they were temporary. Anything else was too awful to contemplate.
The bright murals greeted Karen at the daycare center as she punched in the security code and signed the book. Instead of having a specific baby room, toddler room and preschool room, the center operated on a family model that mixed ages. Karen walked into the Wombat Room and scanned the various activity stations for Indi. She spotted Leo in story corner with his thumb in his mouth, cuddling a board book.
“Hi, Mrs. Hunter!” Jaci, the daycare worker, greeted her and then blushed. “I mean Karen.”
Karen had taught Jaci a couple of years earlier, without much success. Fortunately, the young woman’s grasp of the needs of the under-fives far exceeded her French language skills. Indi adored her.
“Hello, Jaci. Is Indi outside?”
“Sorry, Mrs.—Karen. She’s in the Rosella Room now.”
Karen felt disappointed for Indi. “I bet she’s missing you.”
“We’re all missing her.” Jaci inclined her head toward story corner. “Especially Leo. He’s been really clingy.”
“Was there a reason for the reshuffle?” But as she asked, Karen realized she recognized all the other children.
Jaci looked uncomfortable. “Dr. Hunter insisted.”
Karen sighed. “I see. I better zip off to the Rosella Room then. Thanks, Jaci.”
She returned to the corridor and immediately came face-to-face with Jess. The younger woman’s face fell momentarily and then she lifted her chin, the action identical to the one she’d often used as a wary and defensive teen.
“Hello, Karen.”
“Hello, Jess.”
Jess blinked as if she’d expected Karen to ignore her. “The last two
