Page 93 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“I called your mom.”
A huge grin spread across my face. He was good.
“Thank you,” I said. My mouth was full of cake so it came out more like “Fane oo.”
Laughing, he went back to the kitchen, likely to get a breakfast not made entirely from sugar.
We enjoyed a wonderful weekend together. One of the best I’d ever had.
“Is it bad I don’t want to see my students? I like our happy bubble here,” I told Nick as I loaded up my suitcase.
He had struggled with the packing but I gave him kudos for trying. But for the next surprise trip, I had hinted he should enlist Gigi or Maisy to help.
“I like it too. We’ll plan a trip to come back,” he promised.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I waved. “Good-bye, chateau.” I had a sinking feeling that I’d never see this place again.
And I was right.
“That wind is cold! Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I want to run inside and get my heavier coat,” I asked Prescott’s fifth-grade teacher. We were paired for bus duty this week, supervising the children as they loaded up for their journeys home.
“Just head on in and stay there.” She smiled. “The kids are almost all loaded up and I can finish up here. You go inside and warm up.”
“Thanks!” My teeth chattered as I ran inside.
My short steps turned into long strides when a frustrated scream echoed from my classroom. My heels ground to a stop when I rushed through the door and saw Mason Carpenter frantically digging through the trash can by my desk.
How did he get back inside without a teacher noticing? And what the hell was he doing in the garbage?
“Mason?”
He spun around with wide eyes.
Giving him a gentle smile, I crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “What are you doing in the trash can?”
His eyes filled with tears and his chin started quivering. The desperation on his face was like a shot through the heart.
“I’m hungry!” he wailed and fell against me. “I was trying to find the apple you ate at snack time.”
Pain shot through my heart and I fought back my own tears as I held Mason to my chest. My agony was quickly replaced with blazing fury.
A six-year-old boy was eating garbage. His clothes were dirty and his body was filthy. This could not continue any longer. This would not continue any longer.
The social worker had been given months to help Mason. She’d had her chance. Now it was my turn. No matter what it took, I was getting inside his aunt’s house and proving it was no place for this child.
But first I needed to calm Mason down and get him some food.
“It will be okay, darling. Take some deep breaths,” I said, rubbing his back. “Do you want to take a special trip to the teacher’s lounge with me? I’ll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And I think there’s some brownies in there too.”
He nodded and pulled away, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Ten minutes later, I had raided the lounge cupboards and sat with Mason while he inhaled his sandwich, a bag of chips and two brownies.
“Mason, didn’t you have lunch today?” Usually when I pressed for information he would shut me out, but I was hoping today would be different and he would open up.
He shook his head.
“You live with your aunt?” I asked.
