My clinic day ended early at one o’clock, so I made a stop at the Donner Bakery before heading to pick up the kids from their summer school program. I desperately needed caffeine. Seeing something called a dill pickle cupcake, I picked one up for Leah as a thank-you for helping us out and headed to the school.
The Green Valley Elementary School didn’t look much different from twenty-five years ago. It had the same red brick siding and rectangular veranda leading out from the front doors. As I walked inside, I gave a head nod to the nice administrative assistant I’d met with Leah when Max and Ryla had started summer school, holding up the iced coffees and white bakery bag, explaining that I was taking them to Leah.
“Oh, isn’t that sweet. You go ahead sugar,” she said, buzzing me in.
The smell of crayons, cleaning supplies, and rubber permeated the air as I made my way to Leah’s third grade classroom. Her room was cheery and busy, just like her, with solar system posters, a reading corner, and plants covered with different colored cellophanes spaced evenly apart on the window ledges.
Leah was at her desk, dark wavy hair up in a bun, wearing a T-shirt and shorts along with Tinkerbell earrings. She’d been obsessed with Disney for as long as I could remember and actually named her eleven-year-old daughter and seven-year-old son, Belle and Eric, respectively. Her husband, Kyle, was a very understanding man.
“Knock, knock,” I called out, entering her classroom. “I thought I’d bring you an afternoon snack.”
“For me?” Leah exclaimed excitedly, getting up from her desk.
“Is Max around?” I handed Leah the bag and one of the iced coffees from the carrier.
Leah’s eyes closed slowly as she took a sip of the coffee. “You’re a stallion in a field of donkeys. Let no one convince you otherwise.” She took another fortifying sip, then smiled proudly. “Maxis in the auditorium with the other kids.”
“What?”
Leah nodded. “He’s been pretty tight to me, but then today, he just wanted to go. All by himself. I checked on him a few minutes ago and he seemed fine.”
Pride filled me. After all, that was the goal. Yet at the same time, I was nervous. What if he got scared? What would he do? Pushing against the urge to go check on him myself, I followed Leah toward her desk and sat next to her on a too-small-for-an-adult chair.
“You didn’t have to bring me anything.” Leah’s protest was at odds with how eagerly she peered into the bag.
“You’ve been a lifesaver. It’s the least I could do.”
“I’d happily help you for free—” Leah stopped and gasped, pulling out the clear plastic container housing a white-and-green cupcake. Excitement filled her eyes as she pried open the lid and gave it a small sniff.
“It’s a dill pickle cupcake, so if it’s terrible, don’t blame me. I know how much you like?—”
I was interrupted by the sight of Leah practically attacking the cupcake with her mouth like a feral cat, face-first into the green-and-white confection.
“—pickles.”
Wow. She’d really gone for it. Just dove right in, not caring how much frosting could get on her face. Wolfing it down happily, white frosting from nose to chin, she finally swallowed and let out a contented sigh.
“I thought these were an urban legend. I’ve heard of ’em, but I’ve never seen them sold.”
She went back in for the last few bites. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I leaned forward to grab a napkin from the bag, handing it to her after she finished off the last of the cupcake.
I glanced at my watch. “You ate that entire thing in less than a minute.”
“I’m like a pelican with carb,” Leah explained, wiping frosting from her face. Balling up the napkin, she lined up her shot, then pitched the napkin into a garbage can from ten feet away.
“Woohoo!” Leah hollered, throwing up her hands as she sank it on the first try. I marveled at her obvious ease in her own body. How she seemed light and happy. No stressors stacked on top of each other to weigh her down.
“Hey,” I asked Leah, “do you know anything about the school district’s medical director?”
Leah tipped back, balancing on two legs of her desk chair. “Why?”
“Mercy Health agreed to drop my call requirement, but not until September, and in order to keep my benefits, I have to take on the medical directorship of the school district.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why do you have to—Hey!” she exclaimed, interrupting herself. She brought her chair down and pointed at me. “You need to talk to my friend Rose!” Leah looked at her watch, then up to the clock, then back down to her watch. Suddenly, she bolted up and across the classroom, closing the door, then dashed back to sit right across from me in her own little chair.
“My friend Rose is the school’s special ed coordinator,” Leah began, the enthusiastic glean in her eyes making me strangely wary. “She and a few others have been working on getting more funding to improve special ed resources for the school. This spring she won this long-shot grant specifically to aid the special ed program. We were all pretty shocked. But now, Rose has been pulling her hair out working with the school board and needs help. The school board president wants to use the grant money for sports rather than special education. I know the school’s medical director hasn’t been helpin’ much and was leavin’. But I never thought about asking you—of course you’d be the perfect choice! She’s gonna be happier than a pig in mud!”
I couldn’t help the amused grin that spread across my face. Whenever Leah got excited or angry, her Southern gene activated.
