Doctor, Darling

The judge banged her gavel a few times, and the room grew silent once more. She’d lost her smile. “Do you understand the full extent of your community service?”

“I think so.”

“Please repeat it for the record.”

He swallowed, suddenly aware that he really needed a glass of water. “I have to take this Gillian Bates to a dinner dance,” he said. “But I have to ask her out at least once before that. I can’t let her know this is all some twisted plot and I can’t leave until at least twenty-four hours after the dance.”

The judge nodded. “Except for the creative description in the middle, that’s fine. Remember, she’s not to know anything about this.” Then she turned her attention to the gallery. “Not one slipup, people. This one has to go off without a hitch. We owe that to Gillian.”

She stood up, and the whole room followed suit. Conner felt a hand at his elbow. It was Sheriff Dick Tracy, ready to take him downstairs. He led him down the aisle where several people patted him on the back and one person pinched his behind. He whipped around to see who it was, but no one looked the least bit guilty. Then they got to the exit, and headed down the stairs.

When they reached his cell, he saw that his clothes had been neatly folded on the cot. That his shaving kit had been retrieved from the bathroom. He grabbed them, anxious to get the hell out of there.

The sheriff moved into the doorway, forcing him to stop. “Listen here, Doc. I know you think this is crazy, but you’ll see. You just do like the judge says and everything will turn out fine.”

Conner nodded impatiently.

“And, Doc? Don’t even think about leaving town. We know where you live. Where you work. It’ll be hard on you, you understand?”

Conner nodded again.

“I’ll see you around, Doc.” The sheriff moved out of his way.

Conner stopped again just before he got to the exit. “Sheriff?”

“Yes?”

“How am I supposed to meet her? Gillian Bates, I mean?”

“She teaches kindergarten at the school on Fourth. And she lives on Hickory Street. Thursday night she runs a book club over at the library, so you might try there.”

Conner didn’t thank him. He just walked out into the sunshine and into what looked like an ordinary day in an ordinary town. But he knew better.

He could barely begin to imagine Gillian Bates. What kind of woman needed a court order to find a date? He shuddered, then headed down the street to his car.

“WHAT DOES THE COW SAY?” Gillian asked.

“Mooooo!” replied nine five-year-olds.

“And what does the lamb say?”

“Baaaaa!”

“And what do we say when someone gives us a present?”

“Thank you!”

“Very nice, boys and girls.” She smiled, then sneaked a glance at the big clock over the chalkboard. Thirty minutes to go. Thank goodness.

Normally, her days went by too fast, but today had inched along at a snail’s pace. Teddy had waited too long to visit the rest room, Vicky had eaten two crayons and Max had let the class hamster out of its cage, which led to unbridled hysteria and a chase that lasted all through nap time.

“Okay, kids. Cleanup time!”

The children got up off the big mat in the middle of the classroom and headed in nine directions. A few of them—Zeke, Molly and Eli—actually picked up toys and put them on the shelves at the back of the room. But Jody and Luke decided to fight over a stuffed panda bear, so Gillian had to break that up. After quite a few tears and sniffles, she got them to shake hands and say they were sorry. Then, just as Gillian bent to pick up the prized panda, Sandy Goodwin tripped and spilled the entire tray of watercolor paints down Gillian’s back. She screeched and stood up so fast that she knocked the tray out of Sandy’s hand. It went flying, spraying the remains of the paint all over the front of her dress.

Sandy burst into tears. Gillian wanted to do the same, but instead, she gamely smiled, grabbed a roll of paper towels and started drying herself off. “It’s okay, honey,” she said. “Accidents happen.”

“But I didn’t mean to!” Sandy said between hiccups.

“I know. It’s okay. Now you just go get your lunch box. Your brother will be here in twenty minutes to walk you home.”

Sandy wiped her nose with the back of her arm, then slouched toward the coatroom.

“Ewww. What’s that on your hair?”

Gillian turned to see Eli looking at her, horrified at her disheveled appearance. Eli had a thing about messes. He didn’t like them. Except for his room, of course. That was ground zero. “You stay here,” she said. As she continued to wipe the paint off her clothing, she tapped on the window that separated her classroom from the one next door. Janice Epps, the second-grade teacher, was writing on the blackboard. Gillian tapped again. Finally, Janice heard her and came to the small window as Gillian pushed it open.

“What happened?” she asked, looking Gillian over.

“Kindergarten.”

Janice nodded.

“Can you help?”

Janice nodded again. “Give me ten minutes to finish up here. Then I’ll make sure your kids are taken care of.”

“You’re a peach.”

“You’re a mess.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Janice smiled, then went back to her class.

Gillian turned slowly and looked at her charges. The kids were busy, not necessarily doing what they were supposed to, but that wasn’t unusual. The attention span of a five-year-old is about the length of a Dr. Seuss story—a short one. It was a time of exploration and wonder, of testing and reaching. And tripping and falling. She took her responsibility seriously. She wasn’t just a babysitter. She was helping to mold lives, to build strong foundations in those little bodies. Only sometimes, such as when wet paint dripped down the small of her back, she wondered if she hadn’t taken the easy way out. What if she had stayed in California? What if…? Oh, what if she’d been daring, bold, instead of the scared little rabbit she’d become?

At least she was with Eli all day, but that was only for a few more months. Next term, he’d be with another teacher. The first of a hundred steps away that he’d take on his journey toward adulthood.

She heard a sharp cry and saw Teddy pulling Jody’s hair. Her reverie ended as she went to soothe their feelings.

THE LIBRARY WAS LARGE for a town as small as Miller’s Landing. It smelled like libraries all over the country, slightly musty, but clean, too, with a hint of lemon. Conner had spent so much of his life in libraries that even in this burg from hell, he felt welcome here.

He walked past the circulation desk toward the adult section on the right. New hardback books with shiny covers were displayed on two racks, then he came to the stacks. He let his hand brush the books as he wandered. After that he found a lounge area with comfortable chairs, good lighting, long tables in the middle, and in the back, desks for students. A group had gathered around one of the long tables. He stayed where he was, almost hidden, as he tried to figure out which of the women was Gillian Bates.

He recognized several people from the street or courtroom, so they were eliminated right off. His gaze fell on a woman with red hair. It was long and a little straggly. She was older than him by at least ten years, and her glasses were so thick her eyes seemed too large for her face. But, he supposed, she seemed pleasant enough.

Next to her was another woman he’d never seen before. Blond, pale, on the large side, she had her knitting on the table, and he watched her fingers move in a rhythmic whirl as she transformed the turquoise wool into something he couldn’t make out. She laughed, raising her head, and he liked the sound of it.