Home to Stay (The Long Road Home #2) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,11
closed. The drip in the upstairs bathroom sink and the leak under the kitchen sink had been halted with a few twists of a plumber’s wrench.
In making his way through the old house, he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in better shape than he’d originally feared. When he expressed this to Gramps, he’d stood fast as his grandfather snapped back. “You think I’d live in a dump? I’ll have you know that this house is as sturdy as the day it was built. Just a few little things needed tweaking, that’s all!”
While he wasn’t sure that Gramps’ household assessment was entirely correct, he felt better about where they were living now that he’d had a chance to fix some of the most obvious repairs.
The sound of a bell ringing jolted his thoughts back to the task at hand—going inside to visit Ms. Carrington’s fifth-grade class. Dreading it, his cheeks puffed as he blew out a tremendous breath. Man up, Roster. Take one for the team. He threw open the door. Yeah, if my team could see me now, cowering outside, terrified of a bunch of ten-year-olds.
He walked to the front door and pulled it open, surprised to see that it took him directly to a glassed-in vestibule that led him to the front office only. Once inside, there was a long counter with two secretarial desks behind and a hall that allowed him to see several open office doors. A woman sat behind the counter, a smile on her face.
“Hello, may I help you?”
Having expected to just walk in and find the classroom, he blinked, shocked at the obvious security.
“Uh… yes, ma’am. Uh…”
She kept a polite smile on her face, but her gaze flicked over his large frame and her posture stiffened slightly. Not wanting her to be afraid or call the police, he rushed, “I’m here to visit Ms. Carrington’s class.”
“And your name, please?”
“John. John Roster. Um… Sergeant John Roster.”
Her gaze dropped to a computer screen before returning to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t see you on the visitor list. Is she expecting you?”
“Uh… no. I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know I needed to make arrangements.” He turned to leave, torn between gratitude that he could put the visit off and frustration to have to come back another day.
“Wait, please.”
At the sound of the authoritative voice, he turned to locate the source. A tall woman walked from the back hall, her clear-eyed gaze taking him in. “I’m the principal, Ms. Trafalgar. You’re the soldier that Ms. Carrington’s class has been corresponding with, I believe.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I understand you also attended this elementary school?”
“Only for one year, ma’am, when I lived with my grandparents. I did attend the local high school.”
Her smile widened, dropping only slightly when her gaze landed on his scar. “Welcome back home, Sergeant Roster. We thank you for your service.”
Dipping his chin in acknowledgment, he waited, uncertain.
Ms. Trafalgar looked at the clock on the wall and said, “Ms. Carrington has about thirty minutes until music. I think that her class would be more than excited to meet you in person.” She turned to the receptionist. “Would you have him sign in and then call for an escort?”
“Certainly.” The receptionist’s smile was now just as welcoming. “I just need your driver’s license, please. And once I check you in, I’ll have you sign the visitor’s log.”
He handed over his license, surprised a moment later when she peeled off a sticker that included his photo and license number along with the date, time, and the classroom he was visiting.
“I didn’t expect this kind of security,” he mumbled. “It’s as tight as a military base.”
“Oh, I know.” She nodded in sympathy. “But schools nowadays have to be so careful.”
After a moment, he looked over his shoulder as Ms. Carrington walked through the door, recognizing her from the photograph. Grey hair, round cheeks, huge smile.
She beamed, her eyes twinkling as she clapped her hands. “Oh, Sergeant Roster, what a treat. Please come with me.”
He offered a slight smile and followed dutifully as they made their way down the brightly colored hall, the walls covered with the artwork of the students.
“The students will be so excited. We had no idea you were coming.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Carrington. I should have contacted you to see if this was all right.”
Her round, rosy-cheeked face whipped around as she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Oh, but I’m not Ms. Carrington. I’m the class aide, Mrs. Farthingale.”