Page 2 of After the Rain

"Morning," I managed, suddenly aware that I looked like I'd been through a minor disaster.

Cooper launched into an excited recap of his weekend Lego project, describing the spaceship he'd built with the kind of technical detail that made me proud. Mr. Mitchell listened with the attention he might give to a colleague describing a major architectural discovery.

"That sounds like some serious engineering," he said when Cooper paused for breath. "I'd love to see a picture if you want to bring one tomorrow."

"Really? You like building things too?"

"I love building things. Not as professionally as your dad, but it's one of my favorite hobbies."

Mr. Mitchell glanced at me with a friendly smile. "Cooper's been telling me about your weekend projects. Sounds like you two have been having fun together."

"Yeah, we have." I cleared my throat, trying to look less disheveled than I felt. "Actually, I have his permission slip for the field trip. Sorry it's last minute."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I sent home about twenty reminders, and I still have parents bringing them in late." He accepted the slip with an understanding smile. "Single parenting is tough. You're doing great."

How did he know I was single parenting? Had Cooper mentioned the divorce? Or was it just obvious from my generally frazzled appearance?

"Thanks," I said, feeling heat creep up my neck. "I'm still figuring it out."

"We all are, in one way or another."

There was something in his tone that made me think he might understand more about life transitions than his age suggested. Before I could analyze that thought too deeply, the warning bell rang and Cooper gave me a quick hug.

"Bye, Daddy! See you after school!"

"Have a good day, buddy. Learn some stuff."

Cooper giggled and ran toward the classroom door. I started to turn away, but Mr. Mitchell called after me.

"Oh, and don't worry about the digital copy of the permission slip I mentioned. I can email it to you if that's easier for next time?"

Relief flooded through me. "That would be great. You have my email on file?"

"I do."

I nodded, surprised he'd remembered. Most people forgot business details immediately after hearing them.

"Perfect. I'll send that over today."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it."

As I walked back to my truck, I caught myself feeling grateful for Mr. Mitchell's understanding. It was nice to interact with someone who didn't make me feel like a complete disaster as a parent. Cooper clearly adored his teacher, and that was what mattered.

I drove to work thinking about how smoothly the morning had gone, despite the burned toast and missing backpack. Cooper was in good hands at school, and that was one less thing for me to worry about.

My office was on the second floor of a converted Victorian house downtown, which I shared with my business partner Marcus Webb and our part-time administrative assistant, Janet.

We'd started the firm five years ago when the company I'd been working for in the city decided to open a branch office in Cedar Falls.

It had seemed like perfect timing - Sarah and I could move back to my hometown, closer to family, with lower overhead and a chance to build something from the ground up.

The Harrison Architecture nameplate on my door represented years of careful reputation building in a small town where word-of-mouth could make or break a business.

I'd designed half the new construction in Cedar Falls, renovated historic buildings that were now on the chamber of commerce tours, earned the kind of professional respect that came from being both talented and reliable.

All of it built while married to the right woman, living in the right neighborhood, presenting the right image of successful family man.

Now, sitting at my desk with coffee-stained blueprints, I wondered if any of the decisions I'd made in the past five years had been the right ones.

"You look like hell," Marcus observed, poking his head into my office. "Rough morning?"

"Burned toast, missing backpack, forgot the permission slip. You know, typical Wednesday."

Marcus leaned against my doorframe, studying me with the expression he usually reserved for structural problems. We'd been friends since college, and he had an annoying ability to read my moods.

"Single-dad life keeping you busy?"

"Something like that." I forced myself to focus on the load-bearing calculations that weren't going to solve themselves. "Just trying to figure out the new routine."

"It'll get easier," Marcus said. "Cooper's a resilient kid. He'll adapt."

After he left, I tried to concentrate on work.

Cooper's drawings from yesterday were still stuck to my refrigerator - stick figures of our family that now consisted of just the two of us.

But this morning he'd mentioned Mr. Mitchell with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested the teacher was becoming an important figure in his small world.

That should make me happy, right? Cooper needed positive male role models, especially now that his parents were divorced. Mr. Mitchell seemed like exactly the kind of influence any parent would want for their kid - patient, encouraging, genuinely interested in his students' development.

My phone buzzed with a text from Sarah:

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."

"Mr. Mitchell is an excellent teacher," I said firmly. "Cooper is learning and happy. That's all that matters to me."

Mrs. Fletcher looked taken aback by my tone. "Of course, dear. I'm just saying that some parents might want to be... aware."

After she left, I sat in the booth picking at my sandwich and trying to process what had just happened.

The idea that Cooper's teacher might face discrimination based on gossip and assumptions made me sick.

Whatever Mr. Mitchell's personal life looked like, it had nothing to do with his ability to teach kindergarten.

The afternoon dragged by in a haze of client calls and paperwork. By three-thirty, I was parked outside Cedar Falls Elementary, watching the organized chaos of dismissal and thinking about Mrs. Fletcher's warning.