Free Beneath the Night Tree by Nicole Baart Page B

make the first day of school special by baking her famous cinnamon rolls and letting Daniel smear his with lots of real butter and peanut butter. And I caged my worries and chatted cheerfully, filling the hour before school with mindless conversation that was intended to put my boys at ease. My little plan seemed to work wonders with Daniel; by the time I told him we needed to leave, he was already wearing his backpack, waiting at the door. But Simon wasn’t quite so malleable. I put my hand on his shoulder as we left the house and he abruptly shrugged it off.
    “Nervous?” I asked.
    “No.”
    “Good. There’s no reason to be. You’re talented, smart, fun to be around—”
    “You don’t have to baby me,” Simon muttered.
    “I’m not babying you.”
    He rolled his eyes and slid into the backseat of the car. I almost told him to come in the front with me, but one look at the way his slender arms crossed his chest in defiance warned me that I should let it go.
    “So . . .” I forced a smile and started the car with a flourish of jangling keys. “Who’s ready for their first day of school?”
    Daniel’s hand shot up. “Me! I am!”
    “I don’t know why you’re bringing us,” Simon mumbled.
    “Because I thought you would want me to. After today you two are going to have to ride the bus. And it doesn’t leave at 8:00—it’ll pick you up at 7:25.”
    “Whatever.”
    I gave Simon a stern look in the rearview mirror, but he was staring out the window at rolling pastures and missed my reprimand. When had he become so irritable? so glum? Of course, I knew exactly when the shift had happened. I could mark his attitude change almost to the minute—his world had tilted in its orbit the day he overheard Francesca spill my secret. But hadn’t I assured him that we weren’t going anywhere? that nothing was going to change? What was he so afraid of?
    In spite of the taut mood in the car, Daniel filled the seven-minute drive to school with stories and speculations about his upcoming year. His teacher was a seasoned veteran, a lovely lady with a graying bun and earrings that betrayed her quirky sense of humor. She wore tiny lassos for kindergarten roundup, dangly silver spoons and forks for the parent dessert night, and miniature stuffed teddy bears for the new student meet and greet. Daniel was completely in awe of her and more than eager to commit himself to her tutelage five days a week.
    When we pulled up in front of Mason Elementary, he had his door half-open and one foot on the street before I could utter a protest.
    “Hey!” I called, reaching over the back of the seat and catching his wrist. “You can’t leave without a good-bye!”
    “Oh.” Daniel grinned. “Bye, Mom.”
    “No hug? A kiss, maybe?”
    He peered out the crack in his door at the shuffle of kids and teachers crowding the long sidewalk in front of his new school. “Nah. You can hug me tonight.”
    With that, he slipped out of my grip and was gone.
    “Don’t forget Grandma is picking you and Simon up this afternoon!” I shouted, hoping he could hear me through the open passenger window. Stifling a sigh, I turned to wish Simon a good day. My backseat was empty. He was gone too.
    “Maybe I should go to Iowa City,” I grumbled to myself. “Apparently I’m not as needed here as I thought.”
    It took me less than two minutes to get to Value Foods from Mason Elementary. My heart was still in the drop-off lane with Daniel and Simon, and my head must have been in the clouds because I drove to an empty spot at the very back of the lot before I remembered that there was a space next to the back door just for me. It didn’t have my name on it, but it did have my title: assistant manager.
    Value Foods was a pretty small operation, so my new job didn’t carry the same sort of prestige that it might at a larger chain. But the pay was better, and I liked working under Mr. Durst. He was fair and honest and straightforward—many of the same