Page 6 of The Killing Plains

“Nothing’s easy. You know Lowell. But we’re trying to be civil for the kids’ sake.” She glanced at Satchel, then mouthed to Colly, “Later.” Aloud, she added, “You got in last night? How’s the farmhouse? It’s been empty for ages. You could’ve stayed with me.”

“I like the quiet. Helps me work.” In truth, Colly wanted a refuge from the pressure of other people’s unspoken accusations. She needed a safe zone.

“I hope Russ remembered to check the mouse traps and turn on the electricity.”

“There wasn’t an iron,” Satchel said abruptly. “Grandma used a soup pot.” He plucked at his shirt.

“You look very nice.” Brenda laughed. “Logan and Minnie are so excited you’re here, Satchel. They can’t wait to see you.”

Satchel fidgeted with his backpack. “Okay.”

“He’s a little nervous.” Colly glanced at her watch.

“When are you meeting Russ?”

“I said I’d be at the station by nine.”

Brenda nodded. “Satchel, let’s find your classroom.” She turned to Colly. “Then we’ll do the paperwork.”

By the time they emerged from the school offices, the central hallway had largely cleared, though a few teachers were still shooing stragglers into classrooms. Colly took Satchel’s hand, and they followed Brenda down the hall.

“Here’s Mrs. Boyles, one of our second-grade teachers.” Brenda waved at a petite, energetic-looking African American woman in flats and a knee-length skirt who was moving briskly towards a classroom.

“Wanice, this is Colly Newland and her grandson, Satchel, the boy I was telling you about.”

Wanice Boyles welcomed them warmly. “Why don’t you go inside, Satchel. My aide will show you your cubby and desk.”

Satchel looked up at Colly and chewed his lip.

She ruffled his hair. “It’s okay, buddy.”

“Don’t forget to pick me up.”

“When the bell rings, I’ll be waiting. Promise.”

“Such a serious little guy,” Wanice said after Satchel vanished inside. “Brenda says he’s got health issues?”

Colly nodded. “It’s a genetic thing—solar urticaria. Direct sunlight triggers a severe histamine reaction. His throat can close up, and he can have seizures. Here’s his EpiPen, for emergencies.” She rummaged in her purse.

“What about recess?”

“He’ll be fine in the shade with his hat and sun-sleeves.”

Wanice glanced at Brenda, and then back at Colly. “Is there anything I should watch for? After what y’all have gone through, I’m sure there’s been emotional strain.”

Though the question was not unexpected, Colly felt her chest tighten.Strain?she thought.Do you want to hear about the night terrors? Bed-wetting? Self-inflicted burns?

She looked at Brenda, who said, “Satchel’s had some struggles, but he’s never lashed out at other kids. And he’s been better, recently. Right, Colly?”

“Therapy’s helped,” Colly managed.

The teacher’s brow furrowed, but she smiled. “I’m sure he’ll do great.” She hesitated. “I was so sorry to hear what happened. I knew Randy in high school.”

There was no flicker of accusation behind the woman’s eyes. Even so, Colly felt her face stiffening into the familiar mask. “Thanks.”

“I’m so damn tired of people telling me how sorry they are,” Colly said when they were back in Brenda’s office. “They get this look—it’s awful.”

“I know. It was the same after Lowell moved out.” Brenda rifled through a stack of paperwork. “People mean well. But for them, it’s a one-time conversation. For you, it’s a constant pity-barrage.” She handed Colly a form. “Sign this. I’ll be your emergency contact, if you want.”

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