Font Size:

Tomorrow night was parent teacher night, and Travis was looking forward to learning how Scotty was doing and to seeing Ellen again. Scotty had told him that Miss Young had put his artwork up on the walls and Scotty wanted to be sure his dad saw it.

* * *

Ellen was preparingfor parent teacher night, putting together the usual generic list of topics to cover for each child when she realized that each time slot gave the parent ten to twenty minutes of one-on-one time with her. Since Scotty’s dad would come alone, that meant for up to twenty minutes it would just be the two of them.

What if we run out of things to talk about? I’d better add to this list.

School had only been in session for two months and Scotty was such a well-behaved little boy that there weren’t any concerns or corrections she needed to focus on with him. He had all gold stars and the other children liked him. There were no problems in the classroom with Scotty. He did miss his mama, but that was to be expected.

She thought hard and added a few more things to the list, just to be on the safe side. Usually, she gave the parents a chance to talk and to ask questions as well.

But with Scotty’s dad, she was nervous, and worried about staying on topic. When he was close to her at the gun range, she’d had to really force herself to pay attention.

* * *

The next evening,as soon as Travis pulled into the parking spot in front of the elementary school, Scotty unhooked his seatbelt, opened the door, and bounded out of the truck. “Come on, daddy, let’s go!”

“All right, champ, slow it down a second,” Travis said as he got out, locking his truck. “I have to lock her up.”

His son practically hopped from one foot to another, so impatient was he to get inside and for his dad to see the classroom. “We’re gonna be late,” he said.

“We’re not late,” Travis said. “We are five minutes early.”

“But it’s a long way to my room, cause I’m not allowed to run in there,” Scotty said. “I have to wait for outside time if I want to run.”

“One of the school volunteers is going to be serving you milk and cookies in the cafeteria while I talk to your teacher,” Travis told him. “So, you won’t be going to your room. But I’ll be sure to see your pictures.”

Scotty stopped moving and looked at his dad. “Why can’t I go to my room? “He asked. “I like Miss Young.”

“I like her too,” Travis said. “The reason you can’t go to your room is because this is parent, teacher night, not parent, teacher, student night.”

“Oh,” Scotty said. He wasn’t quite as wound up about going inside, now.

“But you’ll have cookies,” Travis said. He was surprised his son didn’t show excitement for cookies. He must really like Miss Young a lot, if seeing her was more fun than cookies.

Travis walked with Scotty to the front door of his son’s elementary school. So far, Scotty had told him he that hehadto see the painting of their family, and hehadto see the giant A, B, C page.

After leaving Scotty to the cookies and milk, under the care of Mrs. Gruber who had made trays full of oatmeal raisin cookies, Travis walked down the hall to Scotty’s classroom.

Inside the classroom, Ellen was saying goodbye to other boys’ parents. Then she turned to Travis. “Hello, Mr. Bannerman,” she said.

“Hello Miss Young,” he said.

She started off by going over Scotty’s work and explaining her grading system.

His son was doing great, had gold stars on everything, and he was a fast learner. When she discussed Scotty’s artwork, they walked around the room, finding the ones that were Scotty’s.

The last one they stopped in front of was a large paper painted of his family. There was a little house for his grandparents, a tree for Scotty and his dad to walk under and a star where his mother sat, looking down on them. Ellen told him what Scotty had said when he painted the picture. Afterward, Travis and Ellen were both standing in front of the painting with tears in their eyes.

When Travis turned to face her, and his gazed into her eyes, her first thought was –He has the deepest sadness of any man I have ever met.

She wanted to soothe that, to take it away. Her hand found his. Clasping it, she tried to pour all the love she could into her eyes and her hand so that he might feel it. But she spoke not a word.

Her words had fled, and so had all her plans for topics they could discuss in their remaining minutes.

It was as if they looked into each other’s soul’s as they stood, holding hands.

And then he was kissing her. Soft and gentle, his lips found hers.