Page 44 of Endless Southern Love

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

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