Page 61 of When Cardinals Appear

“Then I’ll book your flight myself,” he challenged, a gleam in his eye.

I picked at the salad, digesting his words more than the food. Was he right? Had Mom somehow distorted my worldview to the point I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted anymore? Our relationship had been strained, especially after my parents separated. Mom had leaned on me a lot, perhaps more than she should have during that time. My father’s words painted everything in a different light. I resisted his version, not wanting to think ill of my mom, but deep down, I recognized the truth in what he’d said. In some ways, I’d believed Mom was living vicariously through me, and at the time, I hadn’t minded. But now, I could see what havoc Mom’s actions had wreaked in my life.

“The school wants me to help with their Presidents’ Day play,” I said, pushing my food away.

“You should do it,” he replied, having no issues polishing off his meal. “It’ll give you an idea of what the position here is like.”

I nodded. It’d been a while since I last worked with kids, and I missed it. They saw the world so differently than adults did, and I believed some time with them was just what I needed to help me figure out what the “real” Lanie wanted.

A few days later, I stood on stage in the old high school theatre with Mrs. Carlisle. We planned to do a quick run-through before she and I spent one-on-one time with each child to prepare them for the performance. It brought back memories of my own theatre days.

The board of education had organized the event. Several teachers had been chosen to play the role of various presidents, and each class was assigned a president. The students would ask the president questions about his life and contributions to the country. For Mrs. Carlisle’s class, the script was more of a suggestion, since some of the students struggled to memorize dialogue. But it had guidelines for the types of questions the children should ask.

“All right, class,” Mrs. Carlisle called out. “We’re going to begin. As you know, we were assigned Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Ms. McAllister has offered to fill in as our president for practice. Does anyone want to start us off with a question?”

A young boy named Seth raised his hand. “Wasn’t Mr. Roosevelt in a wheelchair?”

“I do use a wheelchair, young man,” I said in a faux deep voice. “Do you know why?”

Seth shook his head. The other children stared at me with rapt attention.

“Because I got really sick, and when I recovered, I was no longer able to walk.” I leaned down and whispered, “But that didn’t stop me from becoming president.”

Another child, Beth, called out, “What are you most proud of?”

I pretended to think it over. “Let’s see. There was the New Deal.”

“What’s that?” asked Robert, a boy with reddish-brown hair.

“Well, there were several parts to it, but one of the most famous parts that still helps people today was a program where money was provided to people who were too old or sick to work anymore.”

“Do you miss being the president?” a sweet-faced girl with pigtails asked.

“Sometimes,” I said. “But I served as president for well over a decade.”

The children continued to ask questions until Mrs. Carlisle called them back to order. She and I split up the students to work in small groups on memory games. I sat with one group to help them get started.

“Ms. McAllister, I’m scared of being on the stage in front of all those people,” Beth said. “What if I forget what I’m supposed to say?”

“Mrs. Carlisle and I will be there to help you,” I promised. “But it might help if you pretend that it’s just us talking, like we did a few moments ago.” I looked at the rest of the group. “Is anyone else afraid of public speaking?”

There were several nods among the students. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m not a fan, either, though I performed in several plays back in high school.” I gave a conspiratorial smile. “But it’s easier if you think of yourself as a character. Then it’s not you messing up a line, it’s the character’s fault.”

The children giggled, and my heart filled with warmth. I’d missed that. With all of the focus on finishing my master’s and then coming home to handle Mom’s affairs, I’d forgotten how nice it was to spend time with children. Regardless of where I ended up, I knew as long as I could teach, I would be happy.

I checked in on a few other groups before moving over to where Mrs. Carlisle stood.

“You’re doing a wonderful job with them,” she said.

“I’m really enjoying helping with the play.”

“But you’re still undecided on whether you want to take the position.” Her words were stated matter-of-factly with no judgment, but my stomach sank anyway.

“I’m still considering it,” I replied, though I imagined that excuse sounded as empty to her ears as it did in my head.

She sighed. “I understand, but I do hope you’ll make a decision soon. I’d hate to leave in the spring without someone in place to take over.”

I nodded but had no response to that. The idea of leaving the children to some stranger gutted me, but if I accepted the position in Cedar Haven, it would mean going back on my word not only to the school in California but also to my mother. The promises I’d made felt more like shackles that I wished I could free myself from. My father’s voice echoed in my head. What Lanie did I want to be? What did the real Lanie want?

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