Michele Dunaway - Twins for the Teacher

As a child, when Jolie had first discovered the truth about how human babies were made—being on a farm she’d always understood the animal process—she’d found it a bit gross that her mom had popped out her kids in such quick succession. Now that Jolie was older, she appreciated having a large family, especially one so tightly knit and close in age. Family gatherings occurred frequently, and Lance and Jennifer were two of her best friends and her greatest support system.

Ethan and Alli had been around each other so much they probably hadn’t come to appreciate the special bond they shared as siblings and as twins. As Jolie stepped back onto the screened porch, she saw at least four kids right around Ethan and Alli’s age. Perhaps she could introduce her nieces and nephews to Ethan and Alli, give them someone to play with.

Jolie shook her head. She was tutoring Hank’s children after school on her own time. That was already going above and beyond her teaching contract. Taking the Friesen twins under her wing by introducing them to some new friends was not necessary.

But what could it hurt? a little voice inside her head asked. You could help them.

Jolie frowned. She hated that little voice. It often pestered her to death until it got its way. So what if she identified with the twins, understood their love-hate relationship with each other? They’d learn through experience, just as she and Lance had.

Her conscience couldn’t be silenced. It’s only until the end of the year. Then they go to fifth grade. You’ll be just a face in the hall, a former teacher, one remembered fondly. Think of all those nights your dad was gone on school-district business. You understand.

“Jolie, you better get in line or you won’t get any green beans,” Clay called.

“There’s more in the oven,” their mother admonished him, and as Jolie went to get her plate, she tried to ignore her conscience.

“DADDY! WATCH ME!”

Hank set down the report he was reading and watched his daughter slide down the curvy slide into the hotel pool. The Nolter had opened its outdoor pool this weekend, which was perfect, since the weekend was unusually warm.

He clapped for Alli, then checked on Ethan’s location. Under the watchful eye of the lifeguard, his son was diving off the diving board. Hank turned his attention back to his report, but finding his concentration shot, set it aside. So far his children had adjusted to life in Branson. Both had made friends. Their grades were coming along and Ethan’s behavior had improved. They seemed to like school, and Hank attributed that to one person, Jolie Tomlinson.

He knew she’d gone well beyond the call of duty. Ethan and Alli raved about Jolie every day. Hank actually found himself looking forward to hearing the stories his twins told. In each, he tried to learn more about their pretty teacher.

Hank reached for the iced tea on the table next to him and took a long drink. He’d dated a few times after Amanda’s death, but no one had captured his attention quite like Jolie, a woman completely off-limits.

“Dad? You ever going to come in?” Alli’s head appeared at the edge of the pool, her gaze expectant. She hopped out and walked to him.

Hank set the glass down. He’d learned long ago that there were some things, like cancer, that you couldn’t control. Making time for his children was something he did have a say in. Alli shouldn’t have to ask. He rose to his feet and gave his daughter a sideways glance. She seemed to anticipate his words for she giggled and started for the pool as he yelled, “Last one in’s a rotten egg.”

The call from Hank Friesen came two weeks later, at five-fifty on a Thursday night.

“Thank goodness you’re still there,” were his first words.

“Mr. Friesen?” Although she’d only spoken with him briefly a few times since their face-to-face meeting, she’d recognize that deep voice anywhere. Today it held a touch of desperation.

“Call me Hank,” he insisted. “I’ve been trying to get through to the latchkey program, but they don’t have a phone number.”

“No, they use the phone in the office,” Jolie explained.

“That’s closed,” he stated.

Well, technically the door was open, but everyone had gone home. Jolie had a report due in a week for the state agency that provided her technology grant, so she’d stayed late to work on that.

She really needed to get a life beyond her four classroom walls.

Hank didn’t mince words. “Look, I’m stuck in traffic. It’s horrible on the strip, so I got off onto the red route. Maybe I’m on the blue. Whatever color it is, it’s not moving, either. I’m going to be late picking up Ethan and Alli, but I’m on my way. Will you let them know? Whatever the cost, I’ll pay it.”

Branson, entertainment mecca of the Midwest, was known for its horrible traffic. The city had spent millions building new roads and color-coding them. Still, anything could cause a snag.

“How about I just go get Ethan and Alli and I’ll keep them here with me? I’ll prop the side door open with a rug. You’ll see my car by the door. It’s a powder-blue Prius.”

“Will they let you take them? I didn’t put you on the contact sheet.”

“I get Ethan daily for after-school tutoring. It should be fine for me to check out Alli, as well. Just get here in one piece. Take your time. No heroics.”

“Okay, thanks.” He disconnected and Jolie rose to her feet. She needed a break from sitting and typing, anyway. When she reached the cafeteria, where the latchkey program was held, Mrs. Monahan was signing out her daughter, leaving only the Friesen twins. Ethan was tapping his fingers on the table and Alli had two crayons and some paper out. Everything else had been cleaned up.

“Hey, Sam. I’m taking Ethan and Alli. Their dad’s stuck in traffic.”

Sam Jackson, a seventysomething retired schoolteacher, blinked. “I’m not sure that’s in the policy.”

Jolie ignored the curious glance of the teenage latchkey assistant and gave Sam her best smile. “It’ll be fine. I just spoke with their dad. You could call him on his cell and confirm. He’s at least twenty minutes away. I don’t want you two to have to stay. You have his cell on the paperwork?”

“I want to go with Ms. Tomlinson,” Ethan declared. “It’s boring at the end of the day. I don’t want to just sit here.” He kicked the underside of the table for emphasis and Jolie shot him The Look. He quieted immediately. Since the implementation of his behavior plan, he’d been much better. Still, Ethan struggled. No one changed overnight.

“I guess it’s okay,” Sam finally conceded, probably having no real desire to stay past 6:00 p.m. with an edgy Ethan.

“Great!” Ethan whooped. He was already on his feet and grabbing his backpack from the hook. Alli moved a lot more slowly, gathering up the crayons first.

“Where do I sign?” Jolie asked.

Soon she ushered Alli and Ethan into her classroom. “Both of you put your backpacks on the hooks. The custodian hasn’t been in here yet, but that doesn’t mean we can make a mess. Is everyone’s homework done?”

“I finished in latchkey,” Ethan announced.

“I have social studies to do, but I need the Internet,” Alli said. “I’ll do that at the hotel.”

Jolie noted that Alli used the word hotel, not home. “Games are okay if you put them back. The reading center is always good. Off-limits are my computers, the handhelds and the art supplies. Any questions? I’m going to be working on my report if you need me. Don’t hesitate to interrupt. I’m not so busy I can’t stop.”

Both children stared at her and then scattered, Alli to the reading area and Ethan to the games. Jolie went back to her computer.