Page 2 of More Than A Fixer-Upper (Hope Runs Deep #13)

Rosalie

Thirteen Years Later

“Have a great summer,” I say, smiling at my third graders as the bell rings.

I stand by the door while my students hug me before racing off to their buses and parents.

Once the room empties, I start taking down decorations.

The janitors need to deep clean the classrooms. I turn on my boyband playlist through the Bluetooth speaker my kids gave me for Christmas.

They should be here soon to help with the heavy stuff.

I get lost in the music and the rhythm of cleaning.

It takes me a long time to earn my teaching degree.

After I get pregnant not with one, but two babies I try to keep going, but I’m high risk.

Katie and her roommates are incredible throughout my pregnancy.

They let me stay since I work so much and pay my rent and bills in full after summer.

I work until I physically can’t anymore.

Katie becomes my birthing partner and the kids’ godmother.

After I give birth, I try to stay with them, but the roommates struggle with the screaming babies in the middle of the night.

I don’t blame them they’re seniors and need to focus.

I get help through programs for single parents.

I keep track of every dollar I borrow or every service I use.

I promise myself I’ll give back when I’m able.

Randall never steps up as a father. Before I give birth, Katie convinces me to contact a lawyer about child support.

At Randall’s parents’ request, we do a paternity test after the kids are born.

I don’t care what it takes if it means he’ll step up.

The test proves he’s the father, but their lawyer draws up papers for him to give up his rights.

His grandparents are ashamed, so they send money for the first six months and set up a college fund for the twins.

I cry when they visit for their first Christmas.

I hear they pass away within the last five years.

Randall gets furious when his inheritance is cut in half and given to his children.

He tries to force me to give it back, but his grandfather threatens to forfeit the rest of the inheritance to me if Randall takes it to court or threatens me again. I never hear from him again.

“Seriously, Mom?” My thirteen-year-old daughter Winnie walks into my classroom, rolling her eyes. “I heard this all the way down the hallway.”

“And your problem is?” Lisa, the other third grade teacher, stands beside my son Drew in the doorway. “We’re having a dance party while we clean.”

“This music is horrible.” Winnie wrinkles her nose. I gasp and place my hand over my heart like she’s wounded me.

“How have I failed you?” I say dramatically. Winnie and Drew laugh while Lisa snorts.

“Mr. Stanchion wants to see you before you leave,” Lisa tells me. I nod.

“Okay. I’m almost done here. Do you need help with anything?”

“No. My husband’s here to do all the heavy lifting.” I smile and wave as she leaves the room, then mess up Winnie’s hair. She shrieks.

“Not the hair!” I snicker. “Can we get burgers tonight from the Shack?”

“I don’t see why not. We can even spring for milkshakes. How was your last day of middle school?”

“It was good. I got my results from the DNA test we did. It’s in my email. I can’t wait to see where our family comes from.” Winnie grabs one of the boxes and puts the lid on it. Drew, my quiet one, climbs the ladder and takes over the high-up work.

“We’ll check it out when we get home. I’m going to meet with Mr. Stanchion. You two okay?” They both nod. I walk down the hall. The bright, sunny corridors feel dull now that the decorations are coming down. I step into the office and smile at the secretary, Linda, a woman in her late sixties.

“I was told Mr. Stanchion wanted to see me. My kids are cleaning my room, so I figured I’d come now.”

“It’s so nice Winnie and Drew came to help you. They’re such sweet kids.”

“Don’t let the sweet faces fool you they can be terrors, especially when that alarm goes off.

I keep a broom by Drew’s door and poke him.

He swings wildly. When he was a baby, he was my easy one.

Once middle school hit, he turned into an ogre at wakeup.

” Linda chuckles and says she can’t imagine my sweet boy doing that.

She glances down at something and tells me to head in he’s off the phone.

I knock on the door and wait for him to call me in. I step into the principal’s office.

“Good afternoon, Rosalie. Thank you for coming in.” My stomach drops as I sit across from him.

Five folders sit in front of him. “There’s no easy way to say this, but I have to let you go.

The school district is restructuring, and with that comes cuts.

They’re closing one of the elementary schools, and they have a third grade teacher with seniority. ”

“So I’m just out of a job? What am I supposed to do?” My voice cracks. “I have two kids and bills. How long have you known?”

“We finalized everything last month.” The tops of Mr. Stanchion’s ears redden.

“You’ve known for over a month that I’d be out of a job, and you’re telling me on the last day of school? I could’ve been looking. I could’ve been planning. Now I’m panicking about how to keep food in my children’s mouths.” I stand, my temper flaring.

“You can file for unemployment. That’ll give you some time.

I’m sorry.” He pulls out a folder. “I need you to sign some paperwork.” He explains everything before I sign.

“I’m really sorry. I know the parents and kids are going to miss you.

I’m going to miss you. Rosalie, you’ve been a great addition to this school. I’m sad to see you go.”

I nod, afraid to speak as the sting behind my eyes builds. I leave the office and close the door behind me. The click sounds louder than it should like a slam. I rest my head against the wood and let the tears flow.

“What happened?” Linda asks, handing me tissues.

“I was let go,” I sob as Linda pulls me into a hug. I explain what Mr. Stanchion said about the district and the school closure. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’re a strong woman. I know you’ll land on your feet. Take a few weeks this summer to enjoy time with the kids, then start looking. You might have to leave the area if they’re closing schools.”

I nod. “You really think I’ll be okay?”

“I know it.” She gives me one last hug before ushering me out of her office.

I need to throw some water on my face before I face my kids. This isn’t how I imagined starting summer vacation.

How do I tell them? I feel like I’m letting them down again.