Page 4 of After the Rain

Sarah

Found Cooper's backpack. I'll drop it off at school during my lunch break. How was the morning disaster level?

I smiled despite myself. Sarah knew me well enough to predict the chaos that would ensue from a forgotten backpack. Our divorce had been surprisingly amicable, probably because we'd both realized we'd been more like roommates than spouses for the past few years.

Wade

Manageable. Thanks for the backpack rescue.

Sarah

That's what co-parents are for. See you Friday for pickup.

Six weeks ago, Sarah and I had been married. Now we texted about logistics like friendly strangers coordinating childcare. The transition felt surreal, like I'd woken up in someone else's life.

I pulled open my desk drawer to grab a pen and saw my wedding ring sitting on top of a stack of sticky notes. I'd slipped it into my pocket during the rush out the door, but at some point I'd transferred it here without really thinking about it. Seeing it there made my stomach clench.

Fifteen years of marriage, reduced to a circle of gold in a desk drawer.

The meeting with Marcus went fine, though I struggled to focus on timelines and material orders. My mind kept drifting to the morning drop-off, thinking about how patient Mr. Mitchell had been with Cooper's excited chatter about Lego spaceships.

By lunch, I'd given up pretending to work and decided to grab a sandwich at the diner down the street. The Moonbeam was the kind of place where locals gathered to discuss everything from high school football to city council meetings, and I figured the background noise might help clear my head.

I was wrong.

"Wade Harrison!" Mrs. Fletcher, Sarah's mother, materialized at my booth before I'd even opened my menu. "How are you holding up, dear?"

Margaret Fletcher was a force of nature disguised as a petite woman in her late fifties. She'd always been kind to me during my marriage to Sarah, but there was something in her expression now that made me wary.

"I'm doing well, Mrs. Fletcher. How are you?"

"Oh, you know how it is. Keeping busy with church activities and volunteer work." She slid into the booth across from me without being invited. "I've been meaning to call you about Cooper."

Here it comes, I thought. The concerned grandparent conversation I'd been dreading.

"Cooper's doing great," I said carefully. "He loves school, and he's adjusting well to the new custody arrangement."

"That's wonderful to hear. But I have to ask..." She leaned forward, lowering her voice like she was about to share state secrets. "How do you feel about his teacher?"

The question caught me off guard. "Mr. Mitchell? He seems very good with the kids. Cooper loves his class."

Mrs. Fletcher's expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Well, I certainly hope so. It's just that some of the parents have been... talking."

"Talking about what?"

"About whether it's appropriate for a man like that to be teaching young children."

A cold knot formed in my stomach. "A man like what?"

Mrs. Fletcher glanced around the diner, then leaned even closer. "Wade, surely you've noticed. The way he dresses, the way he talks. Some people are saying he might be... well, you know."

Gay. She was talking about Mr. Mitchell being gay.

I felt something surge in my chest that might have been anger, or protectiveness, or both. The man had been nothing but professional and kind to Cooper, and the idea that people were judging him based on speculation about his personal life made me furious.

"No, Mrs. Fletcher, I don't know. What exactly are people saying?"

"Just that parents have a right to know about the people influencing their children. Especially in such formative years."

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