Page 1 of Poppy Kisses
ChapterOne
Poppy
My online remote tutoring student, Auggie, tapped at his screen, his gaze narrowed as he concentrated. The words he was writing appeared in the program on my end.
“Good,” I encouraged him, using the time he worked to study the rest of the house behind him. He was working at his kitchen table. Despite the high ceilings and dining room attached to the kitchen, it had an aged look. An old farmhouse? So much more room than the tiny, outdated motel room I was in.
If I’d had a better space to work, we could’ve met in person. I was back in Coal Haven, North Dakota, and that was also where Auggie lived. But my office situation was a work in progress, and I would be relocating to my brother’s house until I found something more suitable. Whenever and wherever that was.
“How’s that?” Auggie asked. He was bouncing. Probably swinging his legs. We were almost done, and he was about to jitter out of his chair.
I used the cursor to point out the tail on aPhe’d flipped. “Not bad. Correct that and keep going—you’re on fire.”
He puffed out his lips as he worked. There was something familiar about Auggie and the way his short, dirty-blond hair stuck up in spikes. He’d run his hands through the strands, and something tickled my memories.
My family had moved from Coal Haven to Billings right before I’d entered high school, but I sort of remembered some students I’d gone to school with. Several of them probably had stayed in the area. They might be married and have kids Auggie’s age. Those kids might even be in fifth grade with him.
Would I know his mom or dad? Both?
Did I want to know until my employment and housing situations were secure?
I had worked with a private school in Casper, Wyoming, before I’d quit my job—before I would’ve gotten fired. Now, I was subbing for an old college friend with her dyslexia tutoring company. Right now, freelance work was the best option unless I wanted to be thirty and moving in with my parents in Billings. Which was why I was ogling a nice house from my dark motel room.
A vacuum fired up in the room next door, and I grimaced. Could Auggie hear it?
He continued writing like he hadn’t. Debbie hadn’t told me his last name. She’d given me a quick rundown of his personality—upbeat, hardworking, and full of energy—and where he was in the Barton System tutors like us used to teach our dyslexic students. Then she’d turned him over to me for the summer, deliriously happy to have some help with her bursting schedule.
Her business had grown fast, and she had waiting lists of students needing help. Amazing but not surprising since dyslexia was considered a learning disability, and families didn’t get help from their health insurance. But Debbie hustled hard with fundraisers, and I got paid a decent wage when I took clients for her.
I looked at the notes she’d sent me for Auggie. Nope, no last name, just that he preferred Auggie to August, and he liked to be read to during brain breaks.
Auggie tipped his head down as he worked, his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth. His bright-blue eyes faintly triggered a memory, as did the rodeo shirt he wore. He lived where ranching and rodeo were as common as the windmills dotting the countryside.
Auggie rubbed his eyes and squinted at me in the camera. “Are we done yet?”
“Almost. Finish the sentence and then you’re done.”
The material was harder for him. The signs were in his heavy sighs and tired eyes. We’d just started a new level in his lessons.
One of his sighs gusted over our connection, and he slid to another chair around his table, dragging the computer with him. The room behind him whirled through the screen. I was used to my remote students moving around when they moved spots or took their computer to a parent so I could update them.
During our hour, I’d spent the entire time in the same chair. Auggie was on his fourth seat around his dining room table. I’d seen the cute old house had been well cared for. The living room ceiling arched behind him, and the kitchen was an open square. There were sliding French doors on one wall. I think he was across from them now. I got a peek at some cabinets that were nicer than I expected to see in an old farmhouse.
“I need a drink.” He pressed a knuckle into his eye.
I checked the time. We were almost done, but he was struggling with the last word. “Remember the happy rule you and Debbie went over?”
His lips pooched out again. “No short vowels at the end.”
“Right. They need to be closed off.”
His world-weary sigh puffed through the speaker, but he completed the word.
“You did it! Get yourself some water.”
Relief crossed his little face. The screen lurched again as he took the computer with him.
I chuckled. “Do I get some water too?”
