On A Run (14 page)

Hannah sat at one of the small, round kindergarten tables. The room was decorated with samples of the children’s work. On the table itself was a stack of folders. The top folder seemed twice as thick as the rest. It belonged to Madison.

“Welcome Mrs. Glen,
” Mrs. B. said formerly, straightening the stack in front of her.

“Please, call me Hannah,
” Hannah said, uncomfortably.

“That is right, I am sorry, Hannah.” Mrs. B. smiled and sat quietly, as if giving herself a chance to store this information into her memory banks. “Hannah, as you must know, your daughter is quite gifted.”

Hannah blushed. She knew Madison was bright, but she had no other child to compare her to, other than Ben, who was, as Sheila put it, ‘all boy’.

“Thank you,” w
as all she could mutter.

“No, actually, I want to thank you. It is obvious that you have spent quite a bit of quality time with Meg. There are many children who are capable of what Meg does, but either they have no one modeling for them at home or, and excuse my frankness about this, or they have people who are pushing them so hard to achieve that they decide it isn’t worth the effort. For Meg, it is all about discovery. Everything she does is for the pure joy of doing it. And the stories she writes, well, it is obvious where she gets her talent from.”

Hannah stared at Mrs. B. not saying anything.

“You are a writer, are you not?” It was obvious that Mrs. B. knew the answer to this question.

“Yes,” Hannah admitted. “but, not a children’s writer.”

“Are you sure? Meg has told us the story of the fairy flies and the toad queen. She shares many stories with us, and has made many of them into her own books.” Mrs. B. opened Madison’s brimming file and began showing Hannah illustrated book after illustrated book of stories about characters that she and Madison had made up together over the years.

“I would love it if you would come in and spend some time volunteering in the class with the other students. You would be a great role model for them. Writing has become an area of weakness in schools across the country, and ours would certainly benefit from someone with your talents. I would want to steal you for my own classroom, of course, but I know other teachers in the school would be interested in your time as well. As for Meg, well, she could continue to benefit from the person who has taught her from the start.”

“I, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, that is very flattering. But I just can’t.” Hannah felt the need to explain, but what could she say. “I work a
t home while Madison is here,” she added lamely.

“Mrs…. Hannah,” Mrs. B.’s voice softened, and she reached out and touched Hannah’s hand “I know what I am asking is…difficult. Even if you could volunteer a couple hours a week, it would be an amazing experience for our school. How many schools have an internationally known author for a parent? Meg speaks about you all the time. I believe you volunteering would be good for
everyone.
” Mrs. B. emphasized the last word.

For a moment Hannah bristled. Mrs. B. didn’t know how difficult it was for her, she didn’t know anything about her. But she saw a look in Mrs. B.’s eyes that told her somehow Madison was in on this. Hannah wasn’t sure that being an author made her an expert on the subject of writing, especially to elementary students, but how could she refuse?

“I suppose I could spend some time here.” She didn’t sound convinced but was agreeing none-the-less.

“Thank you.” Mrs. B.’s tone was sincere. “Why don’t you come in next Monday with Meg? We have our literacy block first thing in the morning, so that would be a great time to start.”

They spent another twenty minutes talking solely about Madison and her accomplishments. All of Meg’s academic skills were well above her peers, and so her work was being modified to accommodate what she needed to learn next. Socially, however, Madison fit right in with the rest of the class, and, in fact, was a class leader. This was a relief to Hannah. Her little girl was like she had been as a child: confident and secure.

Hannah thanked Mrs. B., gathered her belongings, including a pile of handouts that all parents were getting, and headed to the playground to pick up Madison.

“So are you going to come teach my class next week?” Madison queried as soon as she saw her mother.

“Yes?” Hannah’s resolve was already waning. She figured she could find a way to back out before the following week.

“Good. Then this weekend we are going school shopping for you!” Madison had indeed been planning for this event, and apparently she had the whole thing worked out. “It is all set, we will get you some new school clothes and anything you might need. We can even get you your own backpack!” Madison giggled, quite pleased with herself.

Hannah thought about it. She hadn’t bought new clothes for herself in what seemed like years. It seemed she had no choice.

Hannah did begin volunteering at Breckenridge Elementary School. The following Monday, Madison was awake bright and early and pushed the start button on the coffee maker even before Hannah’s alarm had gone off. She laid out Hannah’s new school outfit and was especially congenial in getting ready herself.  In fact, Madison had to prod her mother to hurry so she wouldn’t be late for her “first day at school.”

Hannah decided on using the same technique for this group of kids as she had in Anaheim many years before. She packed with her paper and crayons and one of Madison’s favorite CD’s. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to play the Disney song. “It wouldn’t be good for the boys.” She convinced herself, though she knew in her heart it wouldn’t be good for her. Hannah was nervous, but, with Madison guiding her into the room, she felt her courage increasing. Hannah told the students the directions and then put on a fun song and watched the children begin their drawings. After less than a minute (the scribbles were beginning to darken the pages) Hannah stopped the music. “Now draw five dots somewhere on your line.” She instructed and modeled the process on her own drawing. “One,” Hannah purposefully darkened in a dot “Two,” “Three,” “Four,” “Five.” The kids were all intently doing as she described, surprising Hannah with their attention to their work. “Now I want you to write or draw one picture next to each dot of something that you did this weekend. It can be anything!”

Hannah quickly filled in five words next to her five dots and then walked around the class helping the children. She noticed Madison intently working on her own paper. Madison and Hannah had done this activity many times over the past few years. Madison also was guiding the kids that were sitting with her at her table. Mrs. B. was helping out the children as well.

Finally, when all the kids seemed to be done, Hannah then picked up her paper again and instructed.

“Now, look at your pictures or your words about what you did this weekend and think about which one you did the very first.” Hannah paused while she watched the kids consider their papers. “Got it? Okay, next to that dot, the one you did first this weekend, I want you to put the number…..”

“One!” a few brave students called out. Madison beamed.

“That is right. One. Now find the second thing you did this weekend and next to this dot put a number….”
“Two!” the whole class called out. They had all caught on.

When the five events were in order and numbered on the students’ papers, Hannah then gave the most important instruction. The first parts of the activity were easy, and fun. This was going to be the challenge.

“Now I want you to write about each of the five things you numbered. If you aren’t comfortable writing, Mrs. B. and I will come around and you can tell us and we can write for you,” she quickly added, remembering that not all students were as advanced as her own daughter. She modeled her own story from her weekend, adding a few details and transition words to make a mini story.

The next twenty minutes were a whirlwind of helping students write their drafts of their stories. When they were done, the students went outside for recess. Madison ran over and hugged her mother before joining her friends outside.

“That was wonderful. Thank you so much for coming!” Mrs. B. called over her shoulder as she was helping the last child into their coat and out the door.

Hannah stood quietly in the empty classroom and looked around. She felt like she truly had accomplished what she set out to do, and left the school with her head held high.

By the time Hannah got home; however, she was exhausted from the effort, and felt like every nerve ending in her body was buzzing. She ran a hot bath while heating up a cup of the coffee left over from the morning, then slipped down into the warm water to try to relieve her nerves. As successful and excited as she was leaving the school, the risk had seemed great to her. She had put herself out there, had volunteered herself, in front of a professional, her daughter’s teacher none the less. What if Mrs. B. had just been being nice saying what she did at the end. What if Mrs. B. was sorry she had invited Hannah in to begin with? Or worst of all, what if she was telling other teachers what a bad experience it was, and they were laughing about it right now in the teacher’s lounge or wherever it was that teachers gathered to gossip. The tears began to well up in Hannah’s eyes.

“Get a grip. You did your best. The kids liked it.” Hannah vehemently tried to reassure herself.
“Madison liked it!” This one thought finally made Hannah begin to relax a little.

She slid deeper into the water, willing her brain to be still for a moment. Hannah focused on the birds singing outside and the cool autumn air blowing in through the opened bathroom window. Hannah loved the fall the best of all seasons. She felt peace in the smells and the colors and the quiet of the mountains this time of year. The upcoming holidays were always a delight with Madison. Hannah focused on these feelings for a while, a smile finally replacing the deep concern that had been etched on her face.

After her bath, Hannah dried off , dressed and took her laptop to the deck to work. She checked her email first, taking solace in fulfilling the commitment she had made long ago to respond to any fan mail she may get. The first email she opened was from a Miriam Balcerzak with the subject heading of “thank you”.

             
Dear Hannah,

I wanted to thank you again for coming to our class today. The activity was completely engaging for all the students and they took such risks with their writing! Some students wrote more today than they have all school year. It was perfect! I so look forward to having you here again next Monday. You truly were inspiring to us all.

Sincerely,

Miriam (aka Mrs. B.)

Hannah read the email twice before comprehending what it meant. She had risked today, but so had the kids, and apparently, they were all going to be okay.

Hannah returned the following Monday to Madison’s classroom. The second visit was even more exciting than the first had been because the students were waiting for her and whatever activity she had planned. Hannah had taken great care in planning another hands-on activity, one that she and Meg had liked to play when she was younger. Meg didn’t seem to care that, for her, these activities were fairly basic. She took pride in being able to help the other students, and found creative new twists to add to her own project.

Hannah loved being able to encourage these little writers, prompting them on plot and character development. She found their stories to be delightful and she stored some ideas away for use in the future, with proper credits where due, of course.

While the plan originally was for Hannah to spend one morning a week in Mrs. B.’s all-day kindergarten class, after a while she was corralled into volunteering in the library for a variety of different grade levels, working with groups of children to cultivate their ability to write as well.

By November, Hannah was asked by the Breckenridge Elementary PTA to donate a signed novel for the silent auction at the school’s fall festival. She agreed happily, and her book earned five times what it would have cost in a regular bookstore. Because of this success, and the fact that many of the PTA moms were disappointed that they hadn’t won the autographed novel bid, Hannah was then talked into have a book signing, in which part of the proceeds would go to the PTA fund. Hannah not only agreed to this, but donated all of the proceeds to the school. By winter break, Hannah was a familiar fixture in the school building.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Christmas day, after opening their presents, Hannah and Madison drove to Denver to be with Sheila, Steve and Ben. Meg and Ben played with his new booty in the play room, while Sheila and Hannah sat in the living room in front of the fireplace. Steve was recovering in the den by watching football.

“I am getting nothing done on my own book right now.” Hannah was apologizing to Sheila. “But I go to the school almost every day and I feel like I have a purpose! I am not afraid in the least anymore. I am even going into town to go shopping now.”

Sheila knew what an achievement this was. Hannah’s recent gamble on a different genre had paid off tenfold. The book was climbing up the Bestseller list and each week got closer to the top spot. It had been a good Christmas.

“Don’t worry about writing for a while then.” Sheila meant it. “Take this time to do something different, to spend with Madison at school. It is amazing how quickly they grow up! Before you know it she will be graduating and going off to college and we will be planning her and Ben’s wedding.” Sheila had a plan for everything.

“Not so fast, please, she is only in kindergarten.”

“Exactly my point. Doesn’t it seem like just yesterday she and Ben had just been born?” Hannah thought back to Christmas Eve six years before and a tear threatened to fall from her eye.

“I’m sorry.” Sheila immediately regretted her words. “Hannah, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“It’s okay.” Hannah bravely sniffed. “I don’t know what is wrong with me. I hardly ever think about…… that.”

“You could still call him
….” Sheila started to say softly, but the look Hannah shot her told her not to push. “Well, like I was saying, you feel free to take as much time as you want at Madison’s school. It sounds like it has made you happier as well.”

Hannah knew that Sheila understood, more than anyone, what the volunteer job had done for her. She hugged her friend and called to Madison to get her presents, they needed to head back up the mountain.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked as they were putting their coats on. “You could stay here.”

“No, you guys have shared enough of your holiday with us. We should be heading back. Besides we didn
’t bring our overnight bags.”

B
efore they could change their minds, Hannah bundled Madison into the back seat of the car and climbed in behind the wheel, flashing her lights goodbye as she backed down the driveway.

It was a clear night in Denver as they drove on I-70 out of town. But as they started the climb up the pass, a light flurry of snow began to fall. Hannah checked in her rearview mirror. Madison was sound asleep in the back seat. Hannah turned down the Christmas music that was playing on the stereo and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, leaning forward slightly in her seat. The snowflakes began to be bigger and fall faster and soon Hannah had to turn on her windshield wipers. Tail lights in front of her glowed red and the traffic slowed. In what seemed like just a few moments, Hannah could barely see the car in front of hers; the snow had grown so thick. She watched the bright white line, which indicated the side of the road, to see where to navigate her vehicle. They had already traveled over an hour and had barely made it a third of the eighty mile drive.  Mile after mile, the traffic crept along, slugging its way up the mountainside. They had passed the last exit miles ago, she was stuck on the mountain pass with nowhere to go, except perhaps pulling off the side of the road. Winter storms didn’t tend to abate in the mountains of Colorado, however, so pulling over didn’t seem like a good choice, especially with a five year old in the back seat.

Every nerve in Hannah’s body was on active alert as she willed the miles to pass beneath the car’s tires. Her eyes began to ache from staring at the snow, which was now like a white matrix on a computer screen that was her windshield. Hannah more than once felt like she was being lured into a trance by the patterns of the snow coming at her. Fatigue began to set in and she shook her head to try to clear it. She tried turning the music back up and singing along to the carols, but the effort of navigating the treacherous roads made it so she couldn’t really focus on the music at all. More than once she felt anger at herself for not taking Steve up on his offer to stay in Denver. “You are such an idiot!” Hannah muttered

Suddenly, a flash of light caught Hannah’s eye and she gasped as she watched a car, passing too quickly in the left lane, begin to spin out of control. A scream froze on Hannah’s lips as she watched in horror as the car bounced off the guard rail on the left and then began to slide toward them.

Hannah had heard about time standing still, she had read about it, she had even written it into one of her novels. But she had never actually experienced it until that very moment. Perhaps it wasn’t the feeling of time standing still, just moving at such a slow pace that whole thoughts could be analyzed. Hannah mused at her options as the uncontrolled car continued to slide sideways in front of her, toward her. She couldn’t see what was to either side of her and didn’t trust that her car would turn even if she told it to. Hannah knew to take her foot off the gas, she remembered being lectured by her father never to hit the brakes on icy roads, and suddenly she vividly remembered him teaching her this.

“Never hit the brakes on ice.” He had lectured, as he sped their old SUV across the empty, frozen parking lot. In example, he then slammed on the brakes, causing their vehicle to spin out of control.  “Always let off of the gas, and the car will slow.” The lesson had permanently scared the information into Hannah’s subconscious, and in that very moment, she felt like he was in the car with her, as if giving her another driving lesson.

“It’s okay Franny!” She heard his voice speak, as clearly as if it were him sitting next to the high school girl she once was. “It’s going to be okay!”

W
ith those very words comforting her, the present moment kicked back into real time. Hannah held her breath, gripping the steering wheel, waiting for the impact that never came. The other vehicle spun right past the hood of her car and into the ditch on the right side of the road, finally coming to a stop on its side, with two of its wheels up in the air.

Hannah quickly took stock of the situation. The time she had taken to slow her car left a gap in the traffic and she was safe from other vehicles up ahead. Less than a quarter mile up the road was the exit to Breckenridge. She inched her car toward that exit, shaking visibly from the near accident. After she exited, she pulled into a motel parking lot that was just off the highway and stopped her car, putting it into park. Then she grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911.

Ten minutes later, Hannah had given all her information to the operator at dispatch, including a statement as to what she had witnessed. She was assured that help was on the way to the wrecked vehicle, and that, in fact, the incident had already been reported, twice. Hannah hung up the phone and peeked over into the back seat. Providentially, her little girl was still soundly asleep, oblivious to any of the events that had just occurred.

Hannah began to cry. She wept for what almost was and what had been in the past. She was overcome with the feeling of what it must have been like for her parents in the moments before their death. She ached at the possibility that her own daughter had almost been involved in this accident. The what-ifs roared through her mind like an avalanche, threatening to bury her under their weight. What finally calmed her was the feeling of her father still with her. He
had
been with her through that scary moment. He had assured her that it was going to be okay, and it had been. Hannah’s need to hear her parent’s voice came through for her when she needed it the very most.

Wiping her face dry, Hannah stared out the front windshield. The snow had let up to a continuous fine falling. Hannah knew the saying well: “big snow, little snow; little snow, lot of snow.” If she stayed at this motel tonight, there could be two feet of snow on the ground by morning. It was only ten more miles to home. Taking a deep breath, Hannah put her car into reverse and backed out of her parking space, and then pulled forward carefully out of the motel parking lot. The storm and holiday had kept most travelers inside, and she found herself alone on the road. Hannah drove with extreme caution up the winding road to her mountain town. It normally took 20 minutes from the Frisco turnoff to her driveway, tonight it took just over another hour.