Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
A knock sounds at my door, pulling my attention away from Riley and her super big X’s that spill off the pages. When I glance up, I see our school receptionist, Miss Courtney, carrying a big bouquet of flowers and a bright smile. “These just arrived for you, Mrs. Drake,” she says proudly as she enters my classroom and sets them on my small desk.
“Oh, uh, thank you,” I reply, praying she doesn’t question the flowers.
I know how it looks. Recently divorced woman receives flowers at her job. She must be seeing someone new, right? Little do they know these aren’t from someone new. I already know who they’re from. He was always sending me flowers for my birthday, our anniversary, or just because, especially in the beginning. When I landed my first teaching job, he sent me flowers every Monday for the entire year, even though we really couldn’t afford it. They were smaller bouquets than this one, but the message and meaning were always the same.
“Are you seeing someone new?” Courtney asks, a beaming smile on her face.
Yep, called it.
“Oh, no no. I’m sure these are from my… parents,” I reply, taking the card and sticking it into my pocket. I know the moment I lift the flap her eyes will be peeking over my shoulder in anticipation.
“Your parents sent you red and white roses with gorgeous orange lilies?” Courtney rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine, keep your secret, but just know that this is a small town. We’ll find out who he is soon enough,” she replies with an ornery grin before heading out of my classroom, closing the door as she goes.
My stomach rolls and I can’t be completely sure it’s from the pregnancy. The truth is this is a small town and it won’t be long before everyone knows. Knows about Harrison. Knows about the baby. Knows that he’s been living in my spare bedroom since the weekend and is showing no signs of leaving. Ever.
I fight the urge to pull the card from my pocket and return to my kids. Most of them have lost focus on their worksheet and are either talking or dancing in their chair. It takes me a few minutes, but I regain control of my class following our interruption, and they’re all finishing up their worksheets.
“Mrs. Drake, who are those from?” one of my students, Kimber, asks.
“A friend,” I reply with a smile.
“Is your friend my daddy? He sends flowers to my mommy,” she adds, handing in her finished worksheet.
“No, not from your daddy. I’m happy that your daddy sends your mommy flowers, though. I bet that really brightens her day.”
Kimber nods frantically. “She brings them home and puts them on the table. Then Daddy kisses her when he comes home,” she tells me, giggling.
“Kisses are gross!” Thomas declares as he sets his sheet in the tray. “Girls have cooties!”
“We do not,” Kimber argues, placing her hands on her hips and stomping her foot.
I fight the smile that threatens to spread across my face. “No one has cooties,” I tell them gently. “Why don’t you both go over to the reading rug and pick out a book. As soon as everyone is done, we’ll have a snack and take our restroom break.”
The kids scurry off, each picking a book to look at while they wait for their classmates. Before long, the entire group has completed their worksheet and is sitting on the rug. I get today’s snack ready, setting the cheese and crackers at each chair, as well as a carton of milk. I give them my full attention, but it’s hard. The small envelope and card are practically burning a hole in my pocket. I’m dying to know what he wrote, but I won’t give in until my students are safely tucked away in their parents’ vehicles and on their way home.
Finally, at 3:10 p.m., the bell rings. I make sure all of today’s work is in their take-home folders and placed in their book bags. When the final child is released to their ride, then and only then do I finally give in to the excitement. With my classroom door firmly shut, I head over to my desk, taking my first real opportunity to smell the gorgeous blooms that were delivered this afternoon. Roses and lilies—two of my favorites, and he knows it. A smile breaks out on my lips as I pull the card from my pocket and take the seat behind my desk.
* * *
My dearest Winnie,
I hope your day was as amazing as you.
Your presence is requested at The Corner Grill.
Six o’clock.
Date night with my two favorite people in the whole world.
You and Peanut.
Until I see you, my love.
H
* * *
I can’t help but notice he’s already referring to our unborn child as a person. Our little person. The one we created together. Yeah, the circumstances of the conception are a bit scandalous for this small town, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Just us.