Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Across the table from Rosie and Marigold, two boys pick on each other. They’re laughing so I let it go, as do my staff. One of us will intervene when necessary. Each time I do a pass over of the area, my eyes land back on Marigold. I can’t take my eyes off her, which probably explains how I miss the beginning of a fight.
We rush over as fast as we can to stop the melee between the two boys who had been picking on each other. Before anyone can get there, a fist flies, hitting Marigold in the side of her head. She cries out and to comfort her, I pick her up and hold her like she’s my child.
With my hand cradling her head, I tell the other staff to send the boys to my office, and that I’ll be there shortly because I have to take Marigold to the nurse’s office. She’s crying and clinging to me as I rush toward the door.
When I get inside, our school nurse, Ms. Cade, looks at me with bewilderment.
“What’s going on, Ms. Walsh?”
“Marigold Jenkins was hit,” I tell her. Instead of setting the child down, I sit in the chair and continue to hold her. “Right here.” I point to the spot on the side of her head where her temple is red, and no doubt a bruise is forming.
“Does this hurt?” Ms. Cade asks.
“Uh, huh.” Marigold sniffs. “Can you call my Daddy?”
“Yes, we’ll call him as soon as Ms. Cade says you’re okay.” For some odd reason, the thought or task of having to call Wade doesn’t bother me.
“I’m going to give her an ice pack. She won’t need it for long.” Ms. Cade pops one of those ice bags full of gel and hands it to Marigold. She takes it and I expect her to get down and walk, but she clings to me. Not wanting to upset her, I carry her to my office and avoid looking at Jean or the two boys waiting for me. I hear one of them mumble about how much trouble they’re in.
“Marigold, can I set you down in my chair?”
She nods. I set her down in my chair and walk around it to use my computer to look her dad’s number up. My heart jumps wildly as I dial his number.
“Jenkins Landscaping,” he says as he answers.
“Hi, it’s Lem—Ms. Walsh.” I glance quickly at Marigold, who watches me like a hawk. “This isn’t an emergency, but Marigold was accidently hit today in the cafeteria.”
“Is she okay?”
I look at her and nod. “Yes, I believe she’s fine. She’s in my office. Would you like to speak with her?”
“Yes.”
Holding the phone out for her, I smile. “Your dad would like to talk to you.”
Her tiny hand brushes mine and she smiles. “Hi, Daddy. My head hurts. Will you come get me? Okay.” She hands the phone back to me. I take a deep breath.
“Hello.”
“You’re being too professional,” he says. “Ms. Walsh.”
“It’s part of my job.”
“I’m going to head there and see how she’s doing.”
“She’ll be in my office.”
“Not the nurse’s office?”
“No, mine.” I hang up and exhale, as if I had held my breath through the entire conversation. “Your dad is coming to make sure you’re okay. Would you like to sit over there on my couch?”
Marigold nods.
She follows me over and sits next to me with her ice pack pressed to the side of her head. I’m certain she’s okay and I’m the one overreacting.
Before I know what’s happening, she’s resting her head on my lap. “Would you like me to read you a story, Marigold?”
“Goldie,” she says. “My name is Goldie.”
Without effort, my hand runs over her soft curls. “Your name matches your personality. You definitely light up the room.”
“Thanks,” she says as she makes herself more comfortable on my lap, and I pick up a book from the nearby table and start reading.
seventeen
wade
There are a lot of things I will do for my client, but only Ms. Linda will get me on my hands and knees to trim her lawn. She likes it edged a certain way, and she wants the blades of her grass to be the same height. She’s my only high maintenance client, but she’s also one of my longest. Plus, she feeds me and makes sure I have all the sweet tea I could want on a hot, almost fall day.
The only issue I have with Ms. Linda is she likes to chat. She will move her lawn chair around her yard so she’s always within talking distance. If someone happens to walk by, well they’re invited in for an ice-cold glass of tea, a good chat about my lackluster love life. Of course, by the time I arrived at Ms. Linda’s this morning, she’d already heard about Lemon’s near fatal car accident—gotta love the small town inflation—and how I saved the day from the big bad wolf. Never mind how it was only a flat that Landon, from Murphy’s Garage, and I were able to fix in under an hour.