1. Hannah

1

HANNAH

W hat a year.

I brushed a hand down the sticky substance causing my shirt to bunch together over my naval, then lifted it cautiously to my nose. It smelled like paint… and glue. Great. Another shirt possibly ruined. Thank goodness for that research rabbit hole I jumped down when the year first started where I learned all the tips and tricks for removing stains like this. I’d sent three shirts to the graveyard before finding it.

“Miss Hannah, Miss Hannah!” Bobby jumped up and down, waving both hands over his head. Bright yellow paint dripped down his wrists. “I did it. Look.” He snatched up his painting and shoved it toward my nose.

My eyes crossed as I tried to focus on the whirling patterns dancing in front of me. “That’s great, Bobby.” I added the slightest hint of censure to my voice. “But you were supposed to wash the paint off when you finished.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He dropped the painting into my lap then bolted for the sink in the corner of the room where several of my preschool kids stood in line. Bobby jumped in beside his best friend.

“Hey, no fair,” Ashley bumped Bobby with her elbow. “You can’t cut in line, Bobby.”

Bobby pouted but backed out of the line and retreated to the end. It took two whole seconds for him to strike up a conversation with the boy in front of him.

I shook my head and grinned while gathering up the still wet paintings and laying them out on the table to finish drying.

Laughter and the genuinely happy and innocent voices I’d only ever heard from preschoolers filled the room. They were so full of pure joy that it made my chest hurt to know today was our last day together. Through the windows behind the children, I spotted parents pulling into the parking lot. I’d gotten to know all of them over the school year, and they seemed as happy as the kids to have finally reached the last day of school. Smiles stretched wide on their faces as they huddled up near the playground and waited for the bell that signaled the release of the kids from my care.

I hesitated to rush them, but time was running out. “Carl, I think you’ve had long enough. Let Brian wash.”

Carl flung water droplets from his fingers, giggling when they splatted against the sink wall. “Okay.” He grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried his hands while running toward me. Small arms latched around my waist. “Do we really have to never see you again?”

I took my time processing his words. “You might see me again. Next year, when you come back, you’ll be in kindergarten, which is that room right over there.” I pointed out the window at the brick building where kindergarten and first grade classes were taught. “You’ll see me at lunch and recess.” I knew from experience that they would not miss me as much as they thought in this moment. By the time the new school year came, excitement for a fresh experience would push out most of the memories of me and this class. Still, there were always a few that would come and hug me the following year. They needed the reassurance that their whole world was not changing overnight.

Carl’s lips pursed, but he nodded and released me saying, “You have to come see us every day.”

Ashley skipped over and hugged me, effectively ending the conversation.

The bell clanged from the main building. Heads jerked around, eyes going wide as the reality of the school year ending crashed through the room. Tears pricked and burned the backs of my eyes. I held them in and opened my arms for hugs.

“Okay. Time to go. You’re all going to have a wonderful summer and I’ll see you next year.” I always made it a point to check on them at least once when the new year first started. Miss Kaitlyn—the kindergarten teacher—understood and never begrudged me a visit.

One by one, every child in my class hugged me tight. A few tears glittered in innocent eyes, the sight almost breaking my control.

“Have a great summer!” Bobby waved from the door where his mother waited.

“You too. Here, don’t forget this.” I picked up his dried painting and held it out. Little feet churned as he bolted toward me and snatched up the painting.

“Look, Mama. Look what I made today. It’s a rocket. And that’s me inside.”

Just like that, I was forgotten.

I waved and smiled while keeping track of each child and the parent they left with.

“Mama?” A small hand tugged on my shirt.

I turned and knelt. “What’s up, little bear?”

Liddy fisted her hands in her shirt, rolling the material around and around until she’d covered them completely. “All gone.” Tiny shoulders shrugged. Large hazel eyes lifted to stare past me, hurt lingering in them. We’d talked about this moment before, but at three years old, Liddy didn’t quite grasp the concept of summer vacation.

I brushed a strand of dark brown hair back from Liddy’s face and cupped her cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. They’re all gone. Next year, you’ll make new friends.” Friends she would lose again at the end of that school year. Then she would be old enough to attend preschool and progress to kindergarten like the rest of them. I loved my principal for allowing Liddy to stay in class with me instead of forcing me to put her in daycare—an expense I couldn’t afford. But this was the fallout, the threat of tears and the not understanding why she lost her friends.

“I have an idea.” I stayed hunkered down in front of her. “Let’s clean up the room and then we’ll get ice cream.”

It wasn’t meant to be any kind of compensation for the loss of friendship, but the easy distraction was about all I had left in me.

Liddy brightened and scurried off to gather up the crayons left behind. She dropped them into the plastic containers causing a sound like rainfall. Liddy giggled as she finished with the crayons and moved on to the books scattered around on the desks.

I turned a slow circle, taking in the classroom. Bright blue walls contrasted with the primary colors that made up the rug where I’d read countless stories. Short bookshelves lined one wall, the books worn and loved. Last days of school were always hard, and the leftover chaos in the room proved it.

Having Liddy in my room all year was a blessing. I knew how lucky I’d been to find a school that let me bring her to work with me. Now it was time to go back to being a full-time mom. A pinch of unease tightened my shoulders as I remembered the letter in my purse beneath my desk. I’d torn it from our mailbox this morning and read enough to realize our landlord raised our rent. Again.

My teacher’s salary made ends meet, but it was a daily struggle. Rising rent prices put me in a terrible predicament. Having the summer off with Liddy brought the kind of joy I’d never found anywhere else. But what would happen when rent soared higher than my salary?

“All done,” Liddy said as she skipped over to me, her hands splayed out in front of her. Her pigtails had slipped down the sides of her head, and I stooped to fix them before taking her hand. “Can we get ice cream now?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Let’s get ice cream.” I closed and locked the door behind us. I’d come back at some point during the summer. Right now, I needed time with my baby girl and a chance to think.

Once I’d buckled Liddy into her car seat and backed out of the parking lot, we made our way into town. Storefronts boasting bright colors and vivid displays beckoned people in to shop for bathing suits and new clothes, home accessories, and countless other things. I’d avoided those shops for years because they created an impossible want in my heart.

The ice cream shop’s front window was covered in chalk paint. They changed the image every week, and in honor of school ending and summer break beginning, this week’s display had a series of ice cream cones jumping into an ice cream lake.

Liddy laughed and clapped when we drove past, almost straining her neck to look out the back window. “We’re here!” She sang the words and wiggled in her seat, the impatience starting as soon as I found a parking spot and turned off the car.

Liddy helped me unbuckle the straps, and we both giggled when she popped up from the seat and clambered into my arms. I settled her on my hip and tickled beneath her chin. “What flavor do you want today? I think I’ll get two scoops.” I held up two fingers. “Chocolate and strawberry.”

“Mango mountain punch.” Liddy shoved her hands down between us and rested her head on my shoulder.

After spending an hour at the ice cream shop, a long afternoon in our small backyard, and a bath, Liddy snuggled into bed and pulled her stuffed elephant up to her chin. Her eyes closed then popped back open. The bright hazel reminded me of her father, and a spasm of anger forced my hands into fists. Liddy sighed and stroked the elephant’s trunk. “Play tomorrow?”

I kissed her forehead. “Yes, we’ll play tomorrow.” Play and swim and enjoy all the things that we loved. Liddy took after me in some ways, but her sense of adventure was her father through and through.

I forced my hands open and flexed my fingers. He’d made his choice when he abandoned me after I told him about Liddy. “Get some sleep.”

“Book.” Liddy pointed at her bookshelf. A tiny smile appeared as she snuggled deep into her pillow. “Please.”

“One more.” I held up my index finger. Summer break or not, Liddy needed a routine. We both did. I took out her favorite princess book and let it fall open to the first page. My voice rose into a girlish pitch that always made her giggle.

Her breaths evened out before I made it halfway through the story. I finished it anyway, just for the peace of mind I gained from sitting beside her bed and listening to my precious baby girl breathe. My girl who deserved everything and made do with almost nothing.

Standing, I rubbed the ache in my back from sitting with my spine against her bed rail before gently kissing her forehead. The trio of pictures sitting on Liddy’s nightstand stopped me in my tracks. The first—a picture of Liddy sitting on Santa’s lap—froze my breath in my lungs. Christmas. I winced. It was still several months away, but all the money I’d been saving was now going to our landlord next month.

I slipped from her room and grabbed my laptop, carrying it to the kitchen. Hopefully, I was wrong and I had more money in the bank than I thought.

Ten minutes later, I sat at the kitchen table with my head in my hands, the miniscule bank account balance churning nausea in my belly. We had just enough for the increased rent and necessities. I wouldn’t be able to afford Christmas.

No . My nails bit into my palms. I refused to let Liddy suffer a hollow Christmas without presents. I’d have to get a summer job. That or find a way to downsize our already modest living arrangement. The two-bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and living room fit our needs. I considered a one-bedroom quickly realizing how cramped we’d be. Liddy deserves better.

Damn it. We both do.

What job out there would let me bring her with me? I tapped my fingertips on the keyboard and pulled up a search engine. One quick scan of available jobs sent my heart plummeting to my toes. A few work from home positions looked promising, but they all required skills outside my area of expertise. Nothing on the list offered an entry level position.

Pain drummed across my forehead, and I rubbed at the knots forming on the back of my neck. “Things will look better tomorrow.” I spoke out loud, driving the reassurance into the open space. “We’ll go looking for a job around town. There has to be something.”

It made sense, even to my panic-stricken mind. I’d find something.

Liddy will have the Christmas I’ve always wanted to give her.