Page 2 of Sweet Surrender

Becca swallowed over a lump in her throat. No matter where she went, she would never forget her time serving as a substitute, doing all she could to use every minute of the limited time she had with her students to get them a little closer to reaching their potential.

On her last day, the principal had called her down to the office before she left.

“You’re lucky I gave a truthful recommendation,” Principal Johnson had teased her gently. “I wanted to tell them you were terrible so we could keep you forever. We’re going to miss you, Miss Hawthorne. You’re one of a kind.”

The principal had handed her a bag that contained a gift card for a local department store, and the reusable coffee mug she was going to carry to school today.

“You’ve always taught our students here with all your heart, even when you only had a day to do it in,” Principal Johnson told her with a warm smile. “I know you’ll do just the same when you have a classroom of your own.”

Becca felt another wave of gratitude now for the older educator’s faith in her. She was determined to make everyone who had ever believed in her proud.

Smiling, she watched Tara fill her mug and add milk and sugar just like she’d asked.

“Thanks, Tara,” she said, taking the coffee when it was ready, and putting her change in the tip jar just like the customer before her. “It was great to meet you.”

“You too, Becca,” Tara told her. “Good luck today.”

“Thank you,” Becca said, turning back to head for the door and scanning the cute little diner one last time.

Nearly every face at every table was looking right back at her. Their expressions were friendly, but Becca felt her cheeks heating anyway.

This is life in a small town, Becca told herself firmly.It’s normal for them to be interested in newcomers.

She headed out the door, sending the bells jingling again.

All she wanted was to sprint to the school and see how her classroom looked in the daylight. But she had already drawn plenty of attention to herself. So she settled for a fast walk.

The frosty air felt good in her lungs and on her flushed cheeks. Across the street, the sun was rising over Sugarville Grove’s park with its holly-decked pavilion and the big evergreen tree that would soon be decorated for Christmas.

Becca walked on, trying not to get caught up admiring the little shops. The redbrick buildings with their big windows and wooden signs were all adorned in twinkling lights and pine boughs. It would be so easy to lose track of time window-shopping. But that would have to wait.

The whole sky was pink with dawn light as she finally crossed Bear Avenue and reached the elementary school.

A walking path led up to the big stone building, which wasn’t even half the size of the ones she was used to, but still looked impressive when it was framed by the rosy sky. Her heart leapt with excitement as she thought about the day ahead.

She swiped her card at the door, and it opened up, revealing a spacious lobby decorated with so much beautiful student art that it took her breath away each time she stepped inside.

“A night owlandan early bird, eh, Miss Hawthorne?” a friendly voice said.

Becca had arrived in Vermont yesterday afternoon, dropped her things at her new apartment over one of the shops in town and rushed right over here to start setting up her classroom and hanging posters. She had been here until it was dark outside, and she was grateful that Sugarville Grove was a safe enough place that a young woman could walk home alone in the evening after getting lost in the excitement of decorating her classroom.

“Principal Chittenden,” Becca said. “Good morning.”

The older lady wore a long brown wool skirt and a pretty red cardigan. She smiled at Becca from behind thick glasses on a beaded chain.

“Good morning,” Principal Chittenden said with a smile. “I hope you have a wonderful first day of school. If you take the advice on your coffee cup, I think it will be exceptional.”

Becca glanced down at her mug and smiled. It had been a conversation starter twice today. By the time she looked up again, the elderly principal had disappeared into her office.

Becca hurried up the stairs to the end of the hallway where the second-grade classrooms were situated across from one another and unlocked the door to hers.

My classroom,she thought to herself as she stepped inside.My very own classroom.

Back in the city, she had lugged her bag of materials around the school. But she was finally going to have a space that was all her own.

Her classroom was even prettier than last night, now that it was filled with soft morning light.

The room itself was on the old-fashioned side, but like the rest of the school, it had clearly been lovingly maintained. The speckled beige floor tiles and wood trim under generations of shellac and a recent rubdown with pine cleaner gave nothingaway. It could have been a classroom from any time after the second world war, if not for the small projector installed on the ceiling.

---