Chapter Five

Nora

June 2013

"With your new obligations, Miss Harrison, we know this is difficult. If you need help, please let us know." I stare at the principal with a bit of shame, wondering how obvious it is that I'm drowning.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," I say, my eyes moving to the left of her where John plays on the floor with large building blocks. He's by himself because the school day has ended, but I needed a break and let him play for a while longer with no interruption. The principal leaves the area and Rebecca comes back, anxious about the brief meeting. Everyone is aware of the situation because it was the talk of the entire building, and of course I had to have a meeting with the administration about it.

"Any word from his mother?" she asks.

I look back at her and shake my head. "No, and it looks like I'm now his permanent guardian." It's been weeks since Julia left John in my care and disappeared. She uprooted my life and my home, leaving me in complete chaos.

"Yes. I didn't mean… it's just, I wondered if she would come back." Did my face give away my apprehension? Julia made it clear that she wasn't coming back, and it had to do with John's safety.

Thankfully, as teachers, we're good at masking our emotions because I frown and say, "I believe she was ill, and that's why." I couldn't tell her the truth, of course. It wasn't like I could say that he's the son of a dead mobster and his family wanted him eighty-sixed.

"That's terrible. Well, you're going to do a wonderful job, even if you don't believe it, Nora." She rubs my arm. "You're a great teacher and a sweet, loving person."

John looks up at me and drops his block. I read the tension building in him. "Thank you. I should go." She follows my gaze and does her best to smile at him, but he's already avoiding our eyes. Damn it. Can he sense my mood? He's a smart boy, and I'm already certain that other people's emotions affect him immediately.

"John, sweetie. We have two more minutes, and then it's time to go and have some dinner." My voice is soft and upbeat. Rebecca and I begin to clean up the last bit of toys in the room. As we get to the last pile, I say, "One more minute," hoping John understands me. He's had several meltdowns over the past few days, but thankfully, we were able to coax him into a calm state. He's not particularly violent with other kids, but he's aggressive with his body, flailing and tugging on his hair. I want to hold him and tell him it will be okay, but I don't know if we're in danger.

School ends soon, and it will be just the two of us at home for the entire summer. I can't imagine what I'm going to do with him. Because we teach the special education programs, they only have one program for the summer, and it's a partial day that doesn't begin for weeks and it's only a three-week session. I don't want to disrupt his schedule once I get him into a summer routine, so I might not want to do it.

"Okay, John. It's time to go." He doesn't look at me, but he gets up when I put my hand out, which is a wonderful start. After a quick bathroom break, I gather his light jacket and our things, and we drive home. On the way there, I turn on music and pay attention to which songs seem to make him happy or upset him.

He definitely prefers rock or pop music at a medium volume. I make a mental note of it and plan to add a playlist to my phone. When he's settled in, I make him some mac and cheese and help him into his chair. He has a problem sitting still, so we sit together, and I wait to eat dinner because I've learned that my food will get cold. I'm not sure if it's a mom thing or an autistic mom thing. Either way, moms endure a lot, and it's going to be a rough ride.

After I put him to bed, I stare at the paperwork in front of me. Nowhere is there contact information for Julia or her legal name. Everything here is under my name and John's. It labels me as his legal guardian after the death of his parents.

I look up the Ingram family and find they died six months ago in Newark, New Jersey with no other family except some distant relatives in Europe. So, she must have worked for a family out of the country and fled back here when this all happened. I don't understand anything other than the boy has a scar on his face that is healing, and he's clung to me, making it difficult to do the smart thing and take him to the police.

Even if I do, everything here shows he is legally my child, but I have no experience other than my education and my minimal hours as a paraprofessional. My two-bedroom house has been quickly remodeled into a home for a child with extra needs.

The doorbell rings, sending little John scurrying behind me with his voice letting out a squeal. Damn it. I slam my eyes shut and hope the person at the door goes away because I'm not in the mood for solicitors. I didn't invite anyone, and no one ever just pops by. The doorbell rings again, dinging repeatedly.

"Nora, what's going on? Your car is in the driveway." Shit. It's my ex-boyfriend, Jeremy. Damn it. How am I supposed to deal with him right now?

"Um. Jeremy, what are you doing here?" I ask through the door. I've been avoiding him since our terrible date.

"I was driving by and saw your car." My brow arches and my chest pounds; my life has become a whirlwind of chaos. How did I end up with a child? A child with special needs that, although I'm capable of handling in short bursts, I'm not sure I'm qualified for it as a full-time job.

"Nora, are you going to let me in?"

"You need to go. We're not together anymore. I broke up with you, or did you forget last month?"

"I'm sorry. Give me a moment."

I take John to his bedroom and sit him down, making sure he's secure before locking the gate on the door. "I'll be right back," I whisper to him before rushing toward the front door.

As I open it, Jeremy pushes his way in. "Whoa, Jeremy." I press my hand against his chest. "What are you doing?"

"You've been avoiding me." He moves around my hand and moves to the middle of my living room. I grab the handle of the front door.

"I think it's best you leave."

John starts crying from his bedroom. I slam my eyes shut, afraid of what's going to happen.

"You have a kid here?"

"Yes, I'm taking care of a friend's kid for a short time."

"So, you have time for someone else's kid, but no time for me."

"I'm sorry, but yes, that's the case."

"God, you're such a bitch. When you get rid of the little brat, give me a call." He storms out of the house with a shove against my shoulder. I lock the door quickly and then check on John, who thankfully is playing with his toys without a problem.